Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Heard An Emergency Siren And I Saw Something Fall From The Sky | Scary Stories

Episode Date: March 9, 2024

No one believes what I saw...         Story from t4bullock Make sure to check out more of their work at u/t4bullock  Cover Art from Ninerio             Original Post: Night of the Cephalopede : r/nosleep  Original YouTube link: I Heard An Emergency Siren And I Saw Something Fall From The Sky           For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech  Darren Curtis Music - YouTube Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every week, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

I remember the night the air raid siren rang out. It snapped me from sleep. I sat straight up from my bed in a day stupor. The room was dark and I thumbled from my bedside lamp. An eerie, unnatural light caught my eye and I ran to the window to find the source. The object in the sky produced no sound. It was a flashing ball of light and it seemed to majestically float from the heavens as if it had no weight to it. A small piece would break off from the main body from time to time,

causing it to pulse with a brilliant flash. The smaller light would flutter and blink with brilliant shades of white, green, and blue, before burning out. Incredible, I muttered to myself in amazement. The falling star left a strange green trail behind it, glinting like a line of glitter against the night sky. It fell out of sight into the hillside. There was a small white flash through the tree line. A few seconds later, a resounding boom echoed through the darkness. Every window in my home shattered, and I was knocked to my feet by the delayed shockwave. Whether it was from the sonic boom or the impact itself, I wasn't sure. I shot a glance toward my alarm clock, but couldn't find it in the lightless

room. I felt my way to the bedside table and found my trusty flashlight. I pushed the switch. After a brief flicker, the old thing turned on and I had a sliver of warm yellow light to guide me. I stood up carefully and tiptoed around the shards of glass on the carpet to get back to where my bedroom windows used to be. My neighborhood sat in a row upon a small knoll in the town of San Gabriel, which overlooked town square just a half mile away. It was quaint, with a population of just 7,500. We were nestled in a series of rolling hills not far from the mountains off the 99, and several hours from the hustle and bustle of L.A.

Block by block. I saw the entire town go black. The clock tower in the square was the highest building for miles. I could normally see it easily from the street. Tonight, it was no longer illuminated by its spotlights. People straggled from their homes in sleepy states into the street. Orange light flickered in the distance as a fire burned somewhere on the hillside out of town, near the site of the impact.

I saw my neighbor and good friend stand at the end of his drive near his mailbox. Jeff Stone was a veteran of the war in the Pacific, just as I was. I'd known the burly man for seven years. We called him G, an old nickname from his football days. He was so large, people used to say he resembled a gorilla when he got off the bus, and the name stuck. He was dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants. There was a logo on a shirt, but his shaggy beard covered it. He must not have been able to find shoes in the dark.

Good Lord, you see that? He shouted at me as I walked outside. How could I not? I've never seen a shooting star actually hit ground. Jeff chuckled. Shooting star my ass. I saw stuff like that back in 43. Flying saucer, my boy. Fly and saucer. I stared at him incredulously. A flying saucer. From outer space. I'd bet my new Chevy on it. The Bel Air? Now that's a bet I am willing to take. It's a deal. Mark my words." I couldn't help but be humored by the sureness.

I'm holding you too, G. Hey, where's Bandito? Oh, she's over at my son's place, letting the grandkids play with her for the weekend. Small town family, you know? I'm hoping they walk her back because my knees just can't take it. Well, I can always help when I get back, I said. Despite not owning any pets, I enjoyed playing with Jeep. little mutt dog from time to time. It was friendly enough, but feisty. Fine. Now, paper boy,

you gonna go get some pictures or stand there talking to an old man all night. Jeff checked his wristwatch. It's 1140. I expect to see a picture of a Martian before I eat my lunch. I chuckled, waved goodbye as I walked back into my home. The front door had been knocked off its hinges and wobbled awkwardly in the frame as I pushed it open. I'd settled in the quaint town of San Gabriel after the war. The local paper needed someone who could wear many hats, and I had experience doing public affairs in the army. Unlike Jeff, I never truly fought against the Japanese.

Though I was a fantastic marksman, I was nearly booted out due to exercise-induced asthma. Still, I found work in the Signal Corps in the Pacific Theater. I covered Jeff's unit during the island hopping campaigns, and he always looked out for me. Nothing in my training prepared me for the horrors of battle, and the pain it brought. I carried a rifle, sure, but I never aimed it. Not once. I was always staring down the lens of a camera. I was later transferred to the Army Pictural Services, making motion pictures to tell stories for both servicemen and civilians alike. At the end of the war,

I was out of a job and the army as well. I had a knack for developing photographs and a steady hand. I'd never been a fighter. I was exceptionally skinny, even for my shorter than average height. I was no soldier. Unlike my basic schoolmates from years ago, G never held it against me that I didn't fight as they did. Everyone has a role in winning the war, brother. Looks like you found yours.

Now make sure to get my good side while I do something. Something heroic, will you?" I knew my role was as a reporter, and I was a damn good one. I grabbed my camera bag and started a pot of coffee. I checked my ice box as I waited, finding some ham and cheese to make a sandwich before I left. The strong black brew poured neatly into my favorite travel cup. My flashlight was weak, but I was sure I had extra batteries in my bag.

Since I couldn't lock the door, I walked out through the back to my single-car garage. It was an old converted carriage house, made of sturdy plank and thick wooden beams. I found that my old retired Jeep had not been damaged by the shockwave. I was thankful and gratefully started the old truck up. The engine turned over and I ventured off out of town. The trip was slow. Power lines were down and a few people stared at me as I went by. The clock tower read 1140.

That's odd, I thought to myself. It's the same time G's watch read when he checked it, but it's been at least 15 minutes since then. How did the watch and the clock tower stop at the same time? My mind tried to put the pieces together, but the connection was just out of reach. I pushed the thought aside and made a hard left out of town. The road leading out of San Gabriel and into the San Gabriel Hills was a smoother ride. The road became hard-packed earth after a few miles, and I trekked up the natural

path for some time. The soft orange glow of fires showed me the way. I aimed for the largest crest of the hills, called the Bamba. It stood out due to being completely barren of trees. I knew I'd have an excellent vantage point there. I reached the summit of the Bamba, and it was an astonishing sight. For nearly a mile, the densely built forest had been wiped out completely. It was as if a large shovel had just snatched everything up in a perfectly straight line between the rolling hills, trees, underbrush, soil, even boulders. All of it was gone. The Amarillo River, its sides damaged from the impact, had begun to overflow into the newly created gully. I parked and snapped several photographs. After I was satisfied I had enough to use. a quality image. I got back in my Jeep and followed the destroyed landscape. When I reached

the end of the goalie, I parked and stood up in the topless Jeep. I couldn't believe my eyes. It certainly was no falling star. The metallic object reminded me vaguely of a manta ray. It was flat and the curves were beautifully elegant. It would have looked right at home in the deep ocean. It must have been 80 feet from wingtip to wingtip, and perhaps half that in length. The front of the craft had a massive curved plate on it. The plate was littered with dense and scorch marks. It must have been a protective shield from space debris. Small fires burned around and on the craft.

The wings were covered in reflective panels with grid-shaped patterns on them. I could see where panels had broken off from the craft. the wings in various places and exposed some sort of complex mechanical system, of which I had no knowledge of. A plate slid off the wing and shattered on the ground. It emitted a green light as it crashed and fragmented like glass. A trickle of liquid oozed out of the left wing and caused a small flame to burn on the ground. There was a huge gaping hole on the left side behind the wing.

It may have once been a door, but it had been ripped away. I snapped dozens of photographs and took a precarious step into the impact zone. The heat was not as intense as I'd imagined it would be. I found I could withstand it, but still sweated from the exertion. After a short walk down, I was inside the saucers crater and right up against the wing. I ran my hand along the reflective panels. They were smooth, and I could feel tiny wires and size. them just under the glass. They were warm to the touch. Thick conduits ran from underneath

the panels to a pair of massive exhaust ports under the wing. I theorized the panels may somehow collect energy, possibly radiation, and channeled it through these thick wires and converted it into propulsion. The entire thing was incredible. I wanted to document the engines, So I walked to the rear of the craft. And that's when I saw the body. The pilot, I presumed, was a little thing, barely three feet tall. It was face down in the dirt. It wore a light blue jumpsuit, not unlike a military pilot's attire. It had four arms and two legs, and the head was bulbous. It wore no shoes and had three little suction cup toes. I couldn't see the face, but I could see what I believed to be gill slits behind the ears and down the neck. His appearance,

as shocking as it was, didn't unnerve me as badly as his condition. The poor thing had been absolutely gutted. The entire back had been ripped open. Bones and tissue, and the and a blue-green liquid were splattered all around it, as well as across his costume. A spinal column lay near the left side of the body. I could see the individual vertebrae. A green sack was draped across the leg, still connected to his internal anatomy by a series of tubules. It dribbled a foul-smelling goo which repulsed me. It looked like the innards of a frog. I focused the camera and held the button down as endless shutter snaps broke the awkward silence around the area. Upon closer inspection of the ground, I could see its little footprints from the

craft leading out into the charred crater at the end of the gully. It must have tried to escape. But from what? The ship wasn't destroyed. Quite the contrary. It was mostly intact, except for the reflective panels which seemed to have broken off from the wings. I ignited my flashlight and put it on the highest setting. The light flickered in protest, but I kept it on. I walked the area from the shattered door to the body, but I could see nothing to indicate the pilot had been chased by another being. The only other thing which stood out were the hundreds of tiny indentations in the ground. It looked like an air-rater had been run over the earth. They were everywhere.

But what could have done that? I took a precarious climb out of the shallow crater and back onto normal soil. As I reached the top, I felt like something was wrong. I was being watched by something. I stared into the forest. I saw a luminescent flicker of light through the dense underbrush. Fireflies, I thought? No, no, it couldn't have been.

The shimmery glint of light was electric blue. No firefly was blue. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood straight up. Goose flesh rippled down my forearms. Something was out there. The silence around me was deafening in its own way. At this time of night, there should have been the sound of crickets, dry flies, and any number of nocturnal mammals rummaging about.

But there was nothing. The silence, save for the soft crackle of the fires burning on the flying saucer and along the gauly, was unnerving. I decided it was best to leave and began my trek back up the hill to my jeep. As I approached, I stepped into a hole and lost my balance. I fell straight onto my back. I heard a shuffling not far off, which grew louder every second. The trees rattled from what approached me.

The very ground vibrated. The crackle of sticks and limbs was everywhere. It sounded like a stampede. I stood up and hid behind a large oak tree as the forest around me exploded. Dozens of herds of deer of all sizes were in full sprint. They were followed a short time later by raccoons, opossums, and then hundreds of mice and rats. A pack of wolves ran shortly behind them, as well as two or three mountain lions. A shaking in the trees above me caused to look up.

Thousands of birds of every species were flying east, the same directions the animals ran to. My mind turned over at what I was seeing. Whatever had escaped from that ship and killed the pilot was in the forest with me, and it It was terrifying enough to scare even the most powerful predators away. The torrent of animals died out, and I was left alone in the unnatural silence once again. I could hear a clicking sound. It caused me to instantly become alert.

It reminded me of the sound a gas oven makes when the igniter is held too long. It was sharp and fast and rattled down deep into my eardrums as it cut through the silence abruptly. It was close. I heard the wrenching of metal and a hissing sound coming from right where I'd parked my Jeep. I was so frightened I didn't know what to do. Suddenly I heard a baying sound like something in pain or like something dying. It was awful. I waited for several moments and the screen was cut off. I heard the clicking sound again but further away, this time. After a tense minute, I decided I had to get back to my car and make a run for it. I cut through the foliage as quickly and quietly as I could. I found my Jeep, but it was badly damaged.

The hood bore a hole just slightly off from the center. It was perfectly smooth and emitted a strange myasma. A vicious goo was splashed all over the hood in thick globs. The slime was slowly melted. melting the black paint away. Lying next to the jeep was a deer, or more precisely, what used to be a deer. It appeared shriveled up as if there was nothing left inside it. It was little more than skin laid over bones. The mouth was stretched open to an extreme degree, but I couldn't see the tongue. Even the eyes were gone.

I'd seen deer in this condition before, but only when they died. in the extreme heat and sat there for months. This deer hadn't been there before I parked. I was sure of it. I would have noticed. The hapless thing must have been what was screaming, which meant it had only just died. What the hell did this to you? I said aloud.

And then I remembered the imminent danger I could be in and I shut up just as quickly as I'd spoken. My eyes strained as I looked for a hint of that blue light. I removed the small pistol from the Jeep's inner compartment and tucked it into my back pocket. The damage was only superficial, it seemed, and she cranked without a problem. I maneuvered on the path I came from back to the road. I passed several of the town's police officers and volunteer firemen in trucks as they raced past me towards the scattered fires burning in the forest. After nearly half an hour drive, I was at the tall hill where the road changed from earth, back to pavement. I fetched my binoculars from my satchel and held them to my eyes. I could see a single bright light

in the middle of town. People were standing in front of it, or coming in and out, one or two at a time. How did Joe open his bar up? Oh, of course. He has a diesel generator. I scanned the otherwise empty streets. I froze when I saw a dark shape slink out of the forest and into the backyard of a home at the edge of town. It was much larger than a man and moved so quickly I could barely keep track of it. There was a strange electric blue light that seemed to come from it or from inside it. It blinked all over like fireflies, just like the light I saw in the trees earlier. I took five or six photographs from the hilltop of the town and practically sprinted back to the car and down the hill. I'd long lost track of the shadowy figure, which had

made its way out of the forest, so I made my way directly to Joe's Tassau. Tavern. More than twenty people had gathered outside. It was nearly two in the morning, but you would have thought it was happy hour, based on the crowd's demeanor and side. Ahoy, paper boy! Where is my Martian? Jeff hopped off his barstool and quickly strode over to me, clasping me by the shoulder and handing me a beer. He still wore his pajamas, but this time he sported his hideous brown leather slippers. He wore them every single morning to get the paper, the mail, and he wore and to walk the dog. It's here on my camera. I tapped the lens as it stuck out from my satchel.

You were right. Aha, I knew it. Those Martian sons of bitches are back, slumming it around when it's hot. That's what they do. They like it hot. He drained the bottle in one long swig when I didn't accept it. You, uh, don't seem all that concerned about it. The power's out. Joe's giving out cold beer for free. Besides, if they come sniffing around me, I'll break out the dynamite. You have dynamite? Of course. Made it myself. If the army saw fit to teach me how to make it, why not?

Good enough to fight the Japanese, good enough to make for myself. Plus, I can use it at the quarry. You realize that doesn't make sense, right, G? It doesn't have to. I'm old and I'm drunk." Jeff bellowed a howling laugh as the lights momentarily dimmed in the bar. The crowd groaned as the generator began to run on empty. Everyone, may I have everyone's attention please? The bar fell silent.

The meteor which crashed in the San Gabriel Hills, it's not a meteor. It's some kind of saucer. Something got loose from it. animal which I think is dangerous. I followed it back to town. Everyone, please be on your guard. Please be careful." There was a momentary pause of silence after I finished. Then the entire room erupted in laughter. A saucer. Like aliens. Someone bellowed as they continued to laugh. No, no, you sure it's not the commies. They might have some of those Nazi rockets.

to get way out here. It's not the Russians, it's invaders from Mars. Another said, No, no, Octopus people from Uranus. The chorus of laughter rang out even louder. I lowered my head and turned to leave. No one believed me. Or no one cared. Either way, it didn't matter. Joseph, the bar owner, made an announcement for last call. Jeff mozied back to the bar and accepted another beer. The air conditioner sputtered and died, the lights flickered off, then back on again. I took a few pictures of everyone having a great time in the pub for the Sunday paper and started for the door with everyone else.

As I left, two men climbed into a wood-panel truck parked on the street. Octopods get into your brains up there, boy. The two elbowed each other in the bench seat and chuckled as they drove away. Hey, brother, what you do in me as solid? It was Jeff. He'd briskly walked up behind me, a beer in each hand. Sure, anything for you. Can you go down to my sons and pick up Bandito?

Your Jeep is working. I don't think I can make the walk, you know, with my knees and all. Well, funny thing, my Jeep was damaged up in the hills. The Martians got your truck. Those little monsters. He shrugged his shoulders. Ah, well, guess I'll just need some aspirin in the morning. He bent at the hips to drunkenly limber up.

It's quite alright, gee. I'll go get bandito. They live on Segundo Avenue, right? His eyes lit up. Sure do. Hey, man, thanks a bunch. You're the best. You want to ride with me?

It's not safe out in the dark, right now. Not a chance, buddy. I ain't scared of no Martian. If I see the ugly little mug, I'll sock him right between the eyes. And hey, don't worry about those two assholes. If they ever saw a real Martian, they'd probably pee themselves. He swung a fist Joe Lewis would have been proud of and started his walk home.

A. G. Be careful. He waved over his shoulder and whistled as he went. down the sidewalk. It took me only a few minutes to reach Mr. Stone's family. His son, Jeff Jr., was a polite man who recognized me immediately from when I took photographs at the park for the five-year anniversary of VJ Day a few years prior. Bandito, the tiny black and brown mutt dog shook her tail so hard, her entire body wriggled as I told her we were going home. Junior thanked me for picking up Bandito, and we had a small conversation

before I left. Bandito, for her part, couldn't sit still. She paced back and forth in the back of the Jeep, sniffing the air as she went. While I drove, my mind began to wander. I was snapped from my thoughts and braked hard. Bandito jumped into my lap in the front seat and began to growl. There were two broken beer bottles on the sidewalk and a large splatter of blood. A single brown slipper lay near it. It was Jeff's. I was sure of it. It was right in front of his stately two-story home. Stay put, girl. I'm going to find him. I checked to make sure the revolver was in my pocket. I went to swap the batteries on my flashlight, but I found I didn't have any. I hung my camera around my neck. In a pinch, I could use the flash to illuminate what was in front of me for a short

time. The blood trail led across Jeff's manicured lawn. Tall hedges lined the windows, and a two-car garage was nestled neatly to the right of the home. The blood trail led there. I could see my carriage house from the front of his yard. My flashlight was the only source of light, and I didn't know how long it would last. The side door of the garage had been smashed to splinters and lay scattered on the floor inside with a deep breath to gather my bravery. I took a step inside. Near the door, I saw a weathered leather duffel. I saw two items sticking out which caught my eye.

It was Jeff's dynamite. He had it sitting in his garage next to his Chevrolet. I made my way around the white bell air, a long crimson smear against the side, leaving me even closer to the assailant. Up against the far corner of the garage, I saw a silhouette. In the enveloping darkness, it was nothing more than a shadow. There was that distinct clicking noise, as well as a wet smacking sound. The slow drip of liquid under the concrete floor.

My eyes adjusted as I slowly raised my flashlight from the trail of blood to the figure. The creature, if I could call it that, was insectoid. A cross between a mantis and a centipede. It was easily nine feet tall and nearly twice that in length. More than a hundred legs, each ending in a meaty railroad spike, chipped the concrete with every tiny motion. The curved armored carapace was divided into a multitude of overlapping deep, deep, and the deep purple plates. Beneath it, I could see a gooey black flesh. Small electric blue lights

shimmered from under the carapace from moist-looking nodules in the flesh. Bio-luminescence. Like a firefly. I recoiled and gasped. The creature turned its body to face the source of the intrusion. The torso curved upwards, and I beheld two Two massive folded arms. Each ended in a Reaper's scyve, more than a foot long. Tiny spikes, limy arms, more like the gripping prongs on a mantis. It clutched the body of a man. He was nearly held two feet off the ground in the grip of the thing. The blades had been crudely stabbed into the man's shoulders. Blood ran in streams from the wounds. as the alien gripped him tightly.

I could tell from the clothing that it was Jeff. The terrible insect held him in a fatal embrace. His feet twitched feebly, and tiny droplets of blood dripped from his bare foot onto the other. Jeff was nearly face to face with it. He coughed weakly and groaned in pain. I continued to shine the tiny yellow stream of light upwards, and I wish I had to have to be. The massive head looked like a mantis. The gigantic curved black eyes were terrifying, reflective, and emotionless. Two antenna flexed and moved into a swept back position. The mouth,

nothing more than a gaping round orifice, had four spindly mandibles on each side. They flexed around the blood-soaked circular opening, and each ended in a small. small blade of their own. The mandibles tapped together, two at a time, to create the clicking noise I heard earlier in the forest. A long, thick, fleshy, opaque, white tube extended from the orifice and began to roughly insert itself directly into Jeff's mouth. It stretched his skin to the point of tearing it open at the cheeks. I could see the tube. had penetrated down his throat and was going down into his body. He was in agony and tears began to stream down his cheeks.

He looked to his left and he looked right into my eyes. His left hand was open and it reached toward me. It trembled violently. Bandito growled and yelped as he saw his friend in danger. I was so shocked by the horror before me. I didn't even hear her enter. Jeff tried to scream as fluids and chunks of organs were pulled with force through the tube. It was drinking Jeff from the inside out.

The creature emitted a soft humming noise as it did so. It was cooing like a child with a treat. I was frozen in place. Every fiber of my mind screamed for me to run from this inhuman monstrosity, but I couldn't move. I could only stare at those emotionless black eyes. Jeff's body shrivelled rapidly. His skin tightened, and the blood ceased to flow from his wounds.

Jeff's eyes rolled back into his head, and he finally, mercifully died. They shook in their sockets before being pulled out and up the tube. There was not a drop of moisture left in his entire body. Even his hair appeared dry and burnt. The tube ran empty and retracted back into the orifice with a revolting slurp. The monster tossed his mutilated corpse aside and it crashed against the wall in a crumpled heap, a bicycle over in the process. Bandito barked violently and tried to attack.

The creature looked down at the tiny morsel and clicked at it. A sudden surge of adrenaline yanked me from my frozen state. I drew the pistol and fired. Each shot echoed inside the rum. I landed three solid hits to the left eye, but the bullets just bounced off it. I reached for my camera. and hit the button. A bright flash filled the room and the monstrous insect recoiled. It used its bladed arms to shield the eyes. I snapped a dozen photographs and it shrank into the corner.

Fight or flight response kicked in and I chose flight. I scooped up the dog and I ran for the door. My hand found the handle of a leather bag and I snatched it without thinking. I heard a a skittering noise behind me, but I didn't look back. I ran into the street as quickly as I could towards my Jeep. I got to the driver's side door and tried to open it. The Munster slammed into the passenger side door, which rocked the entire vehicle violently. My door caved in at least a foot from the impact. The bladed arms slashed at me over the seats and were mere inches from my face as they raked

the steering wheel from the column. of the arms stabbed into the door and became stuck. The monster clicked and pulled as hard as it could. Using the delay, I ran down the street with bandito and hot pursuit as I headed to the police station at Town Square. Headlights illuminated the center of town as a truck roared by and honk the horn. I tried to wave it down. It was the two men who had drunkenly mocked me earlier. Hey there, buddy, you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost. Two powerful blades slammed through the windshield of the truck and skewered the driver.

He sighed heavily as the air was ripped from his lungs. I looked to see the massive centipede body crushing against the truck hood. The passenger screamed and jumped from the seat as he tried to crawl through the open window. The insectoid monster jammed, rammed its probe against the windshield and squirted a snotty yellow goo onto it. The glass melted quickly, and the probe smashed through it. It withdrew the blades, and the tube slid into the open chest wound, and it began to suck the life out of the man. The smell of burning glass was noxious.

The passenger screamed as he tried to run, and the creature cut his head off with one clean wipe and jabbed the appendage into his back to hold him in place. Bandito scampered away into the darkness near the police station. The power was still out, and I couldn't see any patrol cars nearby. The fire burning on the San Gabriel Hills was bright at this point, and I assumed the entire police department was helping with a firefighting effort near the crash. I could hear the clicking sound. The creature had finished its meal and turned that night.

nightmarish gaze back to me. The probe retreated from the neck of the headless man on the ground, who was now a dried husk. I ran inside the clock tower and slammed the heavy wooden door shut. I knew it wouldn't hold, but I didn't know what else to do. I sat on the floor and checked my pistol. Three shots left, not that they had any effect before. At this point, I noticed I still held Jeff's bag of dynamite.

I opened the bag and found eight sticks total, as well as a long thread of fuse. I clumsily wound them together to make some sort of bundle as the aliens slammed against the door. The door was rammed again, and this time it broke. A large piece fell and the hideous eyes smashed into the wood to peer at me through the gap. It clicked those disgusting mandibles together and tried to stab me. with a razor arm. I left the bomb by the door and I shrank back against the stone wall. The spiral staircase upwards led to the inner complications of the clock tower. I was trapped. The thick probe wriggled through the opening of the door and thick strands

of goo plopped on the concrete floor as it searched for me. I tightly gripped my pistol and fired around into the tube. A yellow-green liquid, oozed out and it quickly retreated. The yellow slop smoked and sizzled on the wooden planks of the floorboards before burning through. It smelled of vomit and stomach acid. The creature ran a circle outside to put distance between the door and itself. The multitude of legs dug into the ground as it prepared to attack. They stabbed into the ground and tore chunks from the town square. It charged, emitting a terrible hiss from the orifice in the face, and flashing an electric blue pattern down the entire length of its body. The combination of speed and power

crushed the door, and it ran straight through into the stone wall. The impact was so powerful. It cracked the stone. It landed with a fud and fell flat on its belly. It writhed on the floor, and clicked its mandibles together. Now was my chance. I made a break for it and I ran like hell. I could hear the creature skittering around on the floor inside searching for me. It must have knocked itself senseless for a moment. I made it maybe 15 yards, the farthest I felt comfortable using my pistol as I drew it.

I pulled the hammer back to give myself a soft trigger pull and lined the front side up. on the bag of dynamite. I took a deep breath. The creature regained its composure and faced me. It slammed both talons deep into the floor, raking clumps of boards up. It released a rapid click that resounded across the town square. This is for my friend, you son of the bitch. I gently squeezed the trigger and the explosion tossed me clear of my feet.

I landed hard on my back and had the wind knocked out of me. Dust and debris billowed out of the clock tower in a brown cloud. The building shook violently before it imploded and collapsed on top of itself. The majestic face of the tower disappeared into the shroud of ruin as it tumbled some 60 feet to the ground. I regained my footing and stumbled blindly through the smoke until I was. in the clear. The ringing in my ears faded after a few moments. People began to wander from their homes, undoubtedly terrified by the explosion. I felt something scratch my leg, and I jumped. But it was bandito, pawing at me. Oh, hello there, old curl. You made it. I picked her up,

and she licked my cheek and neck. The dust drifted across the square. And the ruin of the clock tower was revealed. It was nothing more than a pile of brick with a few iron beams sticking out. And deep in the rubble, a faint blue light shimmered twice before fading to nothing. I looked around the square and spotted my camera near a park bench. I picked it up and clicked the button. To my surprise, it still worked. I took a few point-and-shoot images of the collapsed clock tower with Bandito in the foreground.

The deep thunderous rattle of helicopter blades cut through the air. More than a dozen black shapes passed over the town, just a few hundred feet above the rooftops. Their spotlights swept rapidly over the town before zeroing in on the gully. They headed in the direction of the flying saucer in the San Gabriel Hills. I dusted myself off and picked up the dog. Come on, Bandito. Let's go home.