Encounter at Home
Scene: Nighttime. A quiet suburban home. A woman, Emily, is sound asleep. The kind of sleep you desperately cling to after dealing with life’s bullshit all day. But something’s off... A strange sound cuts through the silence—barely audible at first, then louder. A creak. A shuffle. Her eyes snap open.
Emily: (whispers to herself) What the fuck was that?
Her heart starts pounding, a sense of dread creeping up her spine. She listens, every nerve on edge, as the sound comes again. Footsteps. Heavy. Slow. Inside the house. What the actual fuck? No one else is supposed to be here.
Emily: Shit, shit, shit.
Panic surges through her as she throws off her blankets and scrambles out of bed. Her hand flies to the nearest object—a fucking hairdryer. Not even plugged in. Brilliant. That’ll scare ‘em off. She grips it tight like it’s a goddamn shotgun and creeps toward the hallway, heart in her throat. Every step sounds like a goddamn thunderclap in the quiet house.
Emily: Who’s there?!
Nothing. Not a single sound. Just her own labored breathing echoing in the stillness. She swallows hard, holding the hairdryer like it's a weapon of mass destruction as she inches toward the living room. And then—there’s a glow. A soft, eerie light coming from the corner.
Emily: (whispers) What the actual fuck…
She rounds the corner, and her eyes widen. Standing there, in her goddamn living room, is a small, glowing figure. Not a burglar. Not some knife-wielding maniac. Nope. It’s a fucking alien. With shiny, iridescent skin and big eyes blinking back at her.
Emily: (dropping the hairdryer) Oh, thank FUCK. It’s just you. Thought I was about to get murdered.
The alien tilts its head, clearly confused as hell. Emily’s heart rate slows down, relief washing over her like a tidal wave. She slumps onto the couch, hairdryer clattering to the floor like it never stood a chance.
Alien: You... are not frightened?
Emily: Nah, mate. I thought you were a psycho with a knife. Humans are way scarier than... whatever the fuck you are. At least you’re not trying to stab me in my sleep.
The alien blinks again. It’s clearly wondering what the hell is wrong with Earthlings, but Emily’s just glad she’s not dealing with a human for once. She wipes a hand over her face, still trying to calm her erratic breathing.
Alien: I did not mean to alarm you. I am here for... exploration.
Emily: Right. Cool. Well, next time, maybe don’t explore my goddamn house at 2 AM?
Alien: Time is... irrelevant to us.
Emily: Yeah, well, it’s not irrelevant to me, Steve.
The alien blinks again. No response.
Alien: Steve?
Emily: Yeah. Steve. You look like a Steve. We name things here. Helps us categorize the shit that scares us half to death at night.
The alien—Steve, now—seems to process this, though it’s still glowing all the while. Emily groans, realizing she’s in for some weird-ass small talk.
Emily: So, Steve. You sneak into houses often, or am I just the lucky fucking winner tonight?
Steve: Our goal is observation. We do not... interfere.
Emily: Yeah, well, when you’re creeping through someone’s house at 2 AM, it kind of feels like interference, mate. Just saying. Scared the shit out of me.
Steve: I will... take this into account for future observations.
Emily: Yeah, maybe drop a note or something? “Hey, just Steve the alien, here to observe, don’t freak out.”
Steve nods, though it’s clear as day this whole interaction is confusing the fuck out of him. Emily just shakes her head and leans back into the couch, finally catching her breath.
Emily: Man, tonight’s been a fucking rollercoaster. But you know what? I’d take you over a human intruder any day. Cheers to that.
Steve: Cheers?
Emily: Never mind, Steve. Just... welcome to Earth, I guess.
Fade out as Emily, still reeling from the bizarre encounter, gives a wry smile. Steve stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, glowing softly, looking like the weirdest house guest she’ll ever have.
END.