Chapter 3: Strange News and the Shadow of Doubt
The news about the "unidentified object" that crashed on the commercial avenue dominated local newspapers and social media the next day. Photos of the crumpled metal capsule and the confused "pilot," Zylar, now in authorities' custody for "investigation," were everywhere.
Theories ranged from an experimental military drone gone wrong to the wildest alien hypotheses.
In Joey's house, the subject came up during Saturday lunch.
"Did you guys see this?" Léo commented, showing a news story on his phone, his eyes shining with excitement. "Some people are saying it's a real ET!"
Roberto snorted, adjusting his glasses to read over his son's shoulder. "Nonsense. Must be some government maneuver to divert attention from real problems. Or some lunatic internet attention seeker."
He glanced at Joey, who ate in silence, his usual response to avoid confrontation. The veiled criticism, however, landed, reinforcing his own internal critic.
"But Dad, the witnesses, the photos... it looks pretty real," Léo argued, always more open to possibilities.
Clara, meanwhile, seemed worried. "Whatever it is, I hope no one was seriously hurt. And that poor man, he looked so lost in the photos."
Joey listened in silence, but inside, a storm was brewing. First the flash in the garden, then the hooded figure, Lyra the elf in the park, and now a man in a space capsule.
His analytical mind, which liked to collect data and figure out what makes things work, was piecing together too many anomalies to dismiss.
The feeling that the world was "off-kilter," as he had told Dr. Helena, intensified.
He remembered his online searches, the way the "visitors" seemed as confused as the people around them.
"The world is getting weirder and weirder," Roberto grumbled, returning to his plate. "Next thing you know, it'll be raining pocket knives."
Joey felt a shiver. His father's disbelief, somehow, made things even more real for him. If even the most bizarre events were met with such skepticism, perhaps it was easier for the unexplainable to infiltrate everyday life.
He often doubted his own opinions, but the sheer accumulation of these events was becoming hard to ignore, even for him.
Later, while Léo went out to meet friends – "I'm gonna see if I can find out more about this ET!" he joked, winking at Joey – and his parents busied themselves with their own affairs, Joey returned to the safety of his room.
He opened the news about Zylar and Lyra. There was something in their expressions, a universal helplessness, that echoed deeply in his own soul.
He believed it was important to understand his own feelings and those of other people, and he saw a reflection of his own frequent sense of being lost and misunderstood in their faces.
They were alone, displaced. Just like he so often felt, an outsider looking in.
He began to wonder if his dream of a world without evil or wars was just an escape from his own painful reality, or if, somehow, these strange events could be a prelude to something that would challenge the very nature of reality as he knew it. This search for meaning was a constant undercurrent in his life.
That afternoon, Joey decided he needed air.
Normally, the idea of going out alone would paralyze him with anxiety, but a strange mixture of curiosity and an uncharacteristic sense of urgency pushed him.
He put on a hoodie, a thin layer of fabric that felt like a shield, a small comfort to his need for security, and went out, walking aimlessly through the neighborhood streets.
He wasn't looking for anything specific, but his eyes, usually downcast, were more alert than usual. Every person who passed, every different sound, seemed to carry a potential for strangeness.
He was actively trying to prepare for contingencies, a habit of his.
It was then, as he passed a narrow, seldom-used alley, that he saw something that made his heart pound.
Leaning against a graffitied wall, trying to stay in the shadows, was the hooded man he had seen at the bus stop days before.
This time, the hood had fallen back a bit, revealing a pale face with fine features and eyes that seemed to gleam faintly in the dark, filled with deep exhaustion and an almost feral caution.
The man held something small and metallic in his hand, observing it intently.
Joey stopped, his body tense. He often hesitated when unsure, but now he was frozen by a different kind of uncertainty.
The man stared at him, and for an instant, the world seemed to stop.
There were no words, just the mutual recognition of the strangeness of the situation.
The man looked as scared and lost as Joey felt inside.
He was another of those beings from other universes, confused and alone on Earth.
And, for a brief moment, their paths had crossed.
The instant Joey's eyes met those of the hooded man in the alley seemed to stretch for an eternity. Joey's initial fear, an almost Pavlovian reaction to any unexpected social interaction, was palpable, making his heart hammer against his ribs. He often felt like an outsider looking in, and this encounter amplified that sensation tenfold.
But beneath the panic, another emotion began to bubble up: an intense curiosity, almost a form of recognition.
That man didn't exude threat, but rather a profound exhaustion and a wariness that mirrored Joey's own caution towards the world and his tendency to be suspicious of others.
He recognized the look of someone trying to prepare for all contingencies.
Before Joey could form a thought, or his social phobia could make him retreat completely, the hooded man reacted. With a swift movement, almost too fluid to be normal, he shrank further into the shadows, clutching the metallic object in his hand, and then, like smoke, disappeared through a narrow passage between the buildings that Joey hadn't even noticed.
Joey stood still, the air trapped in his lungs. He didn't follow him. The idea of delving into a dark alley after a mysterious figure was more than his anxiety could bear, despite a part of him craving to analyze the situation further.
But the encounter, however brief and silent, left a deep mark. It was no longer just a news story on TV or a post on the internet; it was real.
There was someone there, just a few feet away from him, who clearly didn't belong in that place. This was a fact, and he trusted facts.
He returned home, his mind racing. The world outside, which he tried so hard to avoid, was becoming impossibly strange, but also, in a bizarre way, more aligned with the secret corners of his imagination, where he dreamed of different realities and could almost be caught in a world of fantasy.
Upon entering the house, he found his mother in the living room, reading a book. Clara looked up and smiled, but her smile faltered when she noticed her son's pallor. "Joey? Are you all right, dear? You look like you've seen a ghost."
He hesitated, a familiar internal conflict arising. A part of him desperately wanted to tell her, to share the weight of that secret, of those observations. He believed it was important to understand his own feelings and often wished others understood his.
But how to explain? Would he say he was seeing people who seemed to have stepped out of other worlds? He feared her concern turning into something more serious, perhaps even an agreement with his father that he needed "more help." That would echo his own worst criticisms of himself and threaten the fragile peace he tried to maintain.
He preferred people not to know how he felt or what he thought unless he chose to tell them.
"I'm fine, Mom. Just... walked a bit more than usual. I think I'm tired," he lied, his voice a little shaky, opting to avoid expressing negative feelings and agreeing just to move past the moment. He got tired easily anyway.
Clara watched him intently, her maternal intuition sensing that something was wrong, but she didn't press him. "Well, rest a bit before dinner, then."
That night, Joey's sleep was restless, populated by images of shining eyes in the darkness, space capsules, and enchanted forests he had never known. And his mind replayed the day's events.
….
Meanwhile, in a temporary detention center, Zylar, the space engineer, was trying in vain to explain to skeptical government agents that his "ship" was not a weapon but an exploration vehicle, and that his presence there was an accident of cosmic proportions.
His language was slowly being translated by experimental software, but the essence of his story sounded like pure science fiction to those who listened.
And Lyra, the elf, after escaping the commotion in the park, found herself hidden in the confines of a public library that was closed for renovation.
The shelves full of books were a strange comfort; she didn't understand the words, but the quietness and the smell of old paper reminded her of the ancient libraries of her own kingdom.
She was hungry, scared, but determined to understand where she was and, more importantly, how to get back home.
_________________________________________________________________
I'll be redoing the story. Many things will remain, some will change. I hope to count on your feedback to know if you're enjoying the story or want me to change anything. This is my first time creating a story, so I made several mistakes the first time around. I read one of the comments on the chapters and decided to redo the story to make it more pleasant for you all.
If you like the story, I'd appreciate it if you could check out my Patreon. I'll be posting 40 chapters in advance there. I believe this week I'll be able to create the chapters for paying members. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to today as I'm redoing the chapters and deciding what direction to take the story. If you could comment on the chapters with your thoughts, I would love it. Thank you to everyone who added my story to their collection.
patreon.com/JoeyLean