Observations

Day One: No sightings of subject designated New Neighbor 4. Place of residence, blue, run down cabin, random old broken down parts.
Day Two: No sightings.
Day Three: Sighted New Neighbor 4 bird watching. He stood oddly straight, arms akimbo and didn't move...
Day Four: New Neighbor 4 still in same spot...
Day Five: l begin to suspect New Neighbor 4 actually just has an old man manikin on his porch.....

The wind thrashes the cottonwood trees about my cabin. The rustling of the heart shaped leaves is a constant background. There must have been a crack a thump something... I didn't hear it as I finished up my early morning shift. I cheered my last student off of the internet, finished up my work for the morning, and got up to make a cup of tea. Despite it being well past 6 no sign of the sun was peeking over the mountains. Or rather mountain there really is only one around here. I decided that the artificial lighting was a bit too harsh. I lit a candle and one by one turned off the fluorescent bulbs. I smiled down at the soft yellow glow and arrange some years around it like we were taught in school. Content now with my ambiance I wandered over to the electric kettle to make a cup of tea. However when I depress the leaver to start the water boiling in the blue indicator light nothing happened. Perplexed I fiddled around in the candlelight trying to figure out what could be wrong with the kettle. I flipped the switch I reset the plug I reset the bus bar. Nothing seems to work. That's when I noticed that the internet was out. The two inch tall red numbers on my alarm clock went to lit. in fact the only lights in the entire cabin came from the candle I had just lit and a slowly blinking light on the gas hot water heater. I flicked the main light switch up and down just to be sure. Then shrugged and committed myself to my fuzzy blankets.

It was however a very amusing coincidence that I look the candle before the power went out by about six seconds...

​EDIT: This didn't post yesterday...because the power was out. But it's back now. 

Thank you all so much for your updoots and feedback. It gives me the will to go on. Want to see more? Think about becoming a Patreon. Tea refuses to buy itself and the more time one has to spend on a day job the less time there is for befuddled aliens. 


Humans are Weird – A Surprising Omelet


“Will we be able to ingest the food like substance?” Twistunder asked.

He and Tumblesleft were hydrating in one of the hydrocarbon tubs that seemed ubiquitous in human supplies. The room around them had been decorated for a human celebration of some sort and they had asked permission to observed the decorations before the party began. They had been happily scooting around, taking notes on color schemes when Twistunder’s appendages had begun to itch. The ever helpful humans had provided them with the hydration tub. From there they could watch the  bustle of the preparations.

“There should be no problems,” Tumblesleft answered him. “There is almost no nutritional value in it but it is primarily simple sugars.”

“The guest should be arriving soon,” a human holding a green canister called out. “Do ya’ll need anything before I go and get the cake thing?”

“It’s not a cake!” yelled another human across the room.

“We are fine,” Twistunder assured him.

“Hey,” the human said as his face flushed with the dancing lights of eager delight. “We were going to do the cake-“

“Not a cake!” the other human corrected again.

“On that table over there,” the human gestured towards the central table with the canister, “but since you little dudes are over here I can do it right here in front of you. So you can see the colors better. You dudlets like colors right?”

“We do,” Twistunder agreed eagerly. “Please do the cake-“

“Not a cake!” the interruption came again.

“In front of us,” Twistunder finished.

“Will do little bud!” the human assured him as he turned and strode across the room.

“What is he going to do to the not-a-cake?” Tumblesleft asked.

“You are the nutritional expert,” Twistunder said, rippling in humor. “But there will be colors, and we do like colors.”

They rubbed appendages in amusement and began to exchange greetings with the arriving humans. The pulsing of the human music started and the lights began flashing wildly. The guests were chatting and eating the small foodstuffs provided for them. After some time the first two humans reappeared, one still holding the canister and the other holding a glistening, sculpted dome of crystals. The lights normalized and the music drifted to an end.

“Those are pretty colors,”  Tumblesleft said with admiration in the set of his body.

“What’s the canister for?” Twistunder suddenly asked as the humans approached.

“Why is that relevant?” Tumblesleft asked.

“It now has a trigger mechanism attached to the exhaust end,” Twistunder indicated with his gripping appendage.

“So?” Tumblesleft asked absently as he pulled himself further out of the tub as the humans set the not-a-cake on the table and the lights dimmed well below human tolerance ranges.

“I think it would be safer under water,” Twistunder stated, matching his actions to his words as the canister trigger began clicking in time to the human’s hand movements.

“Why do you-“ Tumblesleft began.

With a rushing sound a spear of flame leapt from the canister trigger and the humans made low sounds of approval. Tumblesleft stiffened and seemed stuck to the edge of the tub as the human played the fame over the not-a-cake. The crystalline structures shifted and changed at the touch. Once the entire surface had been altered the human turned off the flame and the rest of the humans applauded. Tumblesleft eased back into the water and shuffled closer to Twistunder.

“The colors,” Tumblesleft began softly.

“Very pretty,” Twistunder finished for him.

“Safer under the water,” Tumblesleft observed.

“Usually is,” Twistunder replied.

“I think the humans are inviting us out of the water,” Tumblesleft indicated.

“How long does it take those crystal structures to cool from direct flame exposure?” Twistunder asked.

“A little longer,” Tumblesleft said inching closer to Twistunder. “A little longer.” 

Thank you all so much for your updoots and feedback. It gives me the will to go on. Want to see more? Think about becoming a Patreon.Tea refuses to buy itself and the more time one has to spend on a day job the less time there is for befuddled aliens. 

Humans are Weird – Communication

“Have  you completed the analysis for the-” Thirty-five Trills cut off the questions abruptly as his companion preformed one of those contortions nearly unique to humans.
Human Friend Steve’s head swiveled on that preposterous column of a neck and his eyes focused on the scrubby trees to the side. His faced flexed from the polite attention he had been giving Thirty-five Trills and lit up with delight. His throat pulsed noiselessly for a moment and then emitted a series of click and trills that was almost intelligible.  Thirty-five Trills cast around in confusion to see who Human Friend Steve was speaking (or attempting to speak) to.
An answering series of the same sounds, again almost intelligible, emanated from the shrub but this echo carried wild and animalistic undertones that sent Thirty-five Trills shamelessly darting under Human Friend Steve’s hat for cover. One of the near invisible grainivores was now perched at the end of a branch seemingly conversing with the human. However they quickly passed on with the human’s long strides and Human Friend Steve turned his attention back to his sentient companion.
“Have I what now?” Human Friend Steve asked in the same casual tone he’d been using throughout their conversation.
“Were you just conversing with that…animal?” Thirty-five Trills demanded, poking his sensory horns out from under the protection of the hat.
Human Friend Steve blinked slowly and tilted his head to one side as he visibly shifted his vector of thought.
“No,” he replied slowly. “I was just, mimicking it, I guess?”
“Why?” Thirty-five Trills demanded. “In the course of the main branch, why? Were you determining if there were more? I know your bizarre pattern recognition had already found that one. That’s why you smiled. Why?”
Human Friend Steve gave a slow shrug and sauntered on.
“Don’t know,” he admitted finally. “Just something to do I guess.”
Thirty-five Trills ran his winghooks over his sensory horns and fought back a hiss of frustration. There was always a reason for this madness. He was increasingly glad that it wasn’t his stated job to determine them. 

One of the more ubiquitous bits of folklore is the tale of the animal bride. They range from the tragic, to the comic, to everything in-between. Celtic versions tend to make the animal bride a hostage of sorts. The North American versions have a bit more variations with the bride ranging from the caterpillar who body snatches the normal human bride and takes her place, to the fox who house breaks a phlegmatic hunter and then storms off in a huff when he has the gall to mention that well...foxes do kind of smell.  
Recently there has been a trend to "update" the animal bride stories. That caught my attention as I work in the wild life field and I am one of the poor mooks who would end up the holder of a selkie's cap if such a thing really existed. So my brain asked what would really happen if some dude found a selkie skin on the beach. 
First he'd freak out about poaching and take the thing to the local police department. They would be concerned, would open a case file and send it to forensics. Poaching would be assumed until forensics turned up  the fact that there were no signs of injury at all on the skin; no bullet holes, no cuts, nothing. Remembering the fiasco of the "mutilated cows" the now confused and disgruntled officers would get this thing off their hands as quick as possible by shipping it off to the nearest university that studies this stuff. The university is grateful and promptly files the anomaly away to be look at whenever some PhD has the time and interest.
Meanwhile the police get a call from the guy who turned the skin over in the first place. He is being stalked by a crazy naked lady who insists he stole her skin. The police take her in and get the vague idea she own the skin. She is investigated for poaching but nothing can be proven. She learns where her skin is however and when they let her go she sets off for the University. But as the magic binds her to the rules of whoever holds her skin she can't so much as see it unless the PhD investigating it shows it to her. As no one cares this could take awhile and the quickest course of action is to get a PhD and "study" it herself. 
​Cue Uni shenanigans.