What if you knew that horrific events were coming and you figured out a way to protect your home and the ones you love, would you do it?
Yes? Then come along and read When Worlds Collide.
Aimee.
Wha-? Aimee stopped brushing her teeth and popped her head up from the bathroom sink. Quickly turning off the tap, she paused to listen.
The furnace kicked on, followed by a snowplow scraping by her house, but that was it.
Hopeful for an answer, she mumbled, "who's there?" with her toothbrush hanging from her lips.
Nothing.
"Thought I heard someone say my name," she whispered. "Just my imagination, I guess." Feeling a little dejected, she bent back into the sink to rinse her mouth.
As she patted her face dry with the towel, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Is this it? she wondered.
Sliding the black elastic down her ponytail, Aimee gave her hair a shake to loosen it around her shoulders. She didn't look that old, even though she was in her mid-forties now. A few grey-white strands were mixed in with the rest of her brown hair, but they weren't really noticeable, and she had no wrinkles or creases on her face. "Oil of Olay twice a day," she recited, and then poking her cheeks added, "it really does work."
So what's wrong with me then? Turning slightly from side to side, she examined her figure, hidden under loose pajamas, in the mirror. Too fat? Aimee had a medium build that she liked to think was curvy-sensual rather than plump. Then pressing her lips together with a nod, she reminded herself, you don't want anyone who won't accept you as is for who you are.
She had to remind herself of that often, actually, probably because she had been alone for far too many lonely years.
Would it always be this way? She longed for something, but she wasn't sure what. Adventure? Excitement? Maybe that's why she had so hoped for a supernatural reply... for something more.
With her ex a distant memory and her daughter moved to the big city, the house had been empty and creepy quiet for so long now.
Heck, she hadn't even seen her friends in months. That's winter though, I guess, she sighed, folding the hand towel.
Five months had passed since everything had happened. And she hadn't heard of any more paranormal sightings since then either. It all just seemed to stop after Halloween. Aimee found that strange as she had expected activity to increase. But it didn't. She wondered if it had anything to do with her odd dream and the man in the forest.
As she tidied up the bathroom, Aimee smiled remembering what happened when she had told her friends that she had met him in the dream.
Heather had bombarded her with questions trying to figure out who and what he was. "What do you mean he stood in all the doorways?" she had looked at her, puzzled. "He self-replicated a hundred times? How could he do that?"
"It was a dream. I don't know. He... It's like he stood in all the doorways all at the same time, yeah. And there were way more than a hundred." Aimee had emphasized.
"And he stopped all the monsters from getting through?"
"Mm hmm, yeah, more like..." Aimee had hesitated trying to remember, understand and describe all at once. "More like he absorbed them all, if that makes sense. And then he just disappeared." She had paused for a moment, unsure whether to share the next bit or not, but had decided to go ahead. "It was weird but, he knew me. He knew who I was. What the heck does that mean?"
Heather first had cocked her head, and then shook it, unable to give her friend an answer. Then after searching the extensive database in her mind, had asked, "and you say he was tall and blond, right?"
"Yes very, to both. And with big blue eyes that seemed... I don't know... they just seemed to shine. He seemed otherworldly. Even in the way he moved. He was like ethereal but solid."
Heather had nodded along to Aimee's description. Based on her previous research, she was convinced he was an alien, a Nordic alien. "There's good ones and bad ones, you know," she had clarified. "Sounds like he's one of the good ones?"
Aimee had certainly hoped so.
Stacey, meanwhile, had listened silently, wide-eyed and at the end just offered up, "he sounds cute."
What Aimee hadn't told her friends was that she felt like she knew him too. But how? Sounds crazy right, she told herself. But it was another reason she really hoped he had returned.
All had been quiet since then, no weirdness or any more strange dreams. Aimee had passed a low-key Christmas season, curled up watching far too many Hallmark movies. Now, here she was at the end of winter with yet another dumping of the white stuff.
Before going to bed, she stopped to look out the window and watch the snow blowing under the streetlight. Soft yellow light glowed here and there from neighbouring windows, houses shut tight from the cold. Everyone was just getting on with their own lives, she thought, closing the curtains. Maybe I should too.
Turning to climb into bed, she wondered what her friends were doing now. "I hope they're alright," she said softly, almost like offering up a little protective prayer to the blond man from her dreams. "Nordic alien," she chuckled, pulling the blankets up over herself.
Aimee.
As she reached to turn off the bedside lamp, she thought she heard a voice again. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. Those dreams were so vivid though; they felt so real. She wanted them to be real. And she wanted to know more.
Aimee.
"There it is again!" It was louder this time. Clear and distinct. "I'm not imagining it. It is a voice. It's his voice."
Even as her excitement grew, a powerful force grabbed hold of her mind and pulled her consciousness swiftly into deep slumber. Aimee tried to fight it, but she just couldn't stay awake. So she focused on his voice as she slipped under the frequency waves, straight down into delta sleep.
Shield Warrior.
As Aimee slept motionless in the darkness of her bedroom, the closet door clicked open.
© 2022 by Linda Casselman
Previous: Step Into Your Dreams
Next: Oh No, It's Back!
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Did You Hear The Call?
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