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Invaders! by Boreal67

Invaders! by Boreal67

Runner-up, KidPub July 2013 WRiting Contest


‘Morning…’ my brain whispers, ‘Time to get up…’
I open my eyes, taking my time, and, figuring I still have a little time left to dawdle, soak in the warmth and cosiness of my bed.
‘Get UP!’ my nagging mind urges.
Giving into it, I heave myself off my source of comfort and switch my brain to get-up-and-go mode. Strange- I feel heavier than usual.
As I pass the mirror, I stop in my tracks. I’m a- a monster! Terribly obese and strange, I am, with fiery eyes, slit in the centre like a cat’s. Though I have always admired their strong, unafraid stare, this is nothing to be coveted.
I fail miserably at my search for anything normal about myself, only finding that my purple body is made up of minute scales, and that I have EIGHT fingers!
Horrified, I run my fingers over my grotesquely bald scalp. This isn’t normal. This isn’t me. It’s my house, with all the familiar morning sounds, but not the usual me!
Breathing deeply in and out, I set my great lumps of arms calmly beside my anomalous pyjama pants and put on a professional and dignified expression.
“There is a perfectly rational explanation for all this,” I assure myself, though I can’t actually think of any.
Taking another deep breath, I shake myself back into my morning routine, pick some completely foreign-looking clothes and wander cautiously downstairs, crossing my fingers everything is normal below.
I see my kitchen at the bottom, faultlessly intact. The only abnormal thing about it is that it is inhabited by total strangers- beasts, like me, with those disconcertingly peculiar eyes and scales all over. There are four of them, sitting in our family’s places. They certainly aren’t my family transformed- I only have one pesky little sister. The contented group finally notice my presence, and look up to greet me.
“Ah, Susan,” the biggest one says affectionately, “Come have some flobtids!”
“No, Tony, I believe the plural is flobtidi,” the second largest corrects in her soft, musical voice, quite the opposite of Tony’s gruff yet caring tone.
“The packet just calls them ‘Flobtid Mania’,” mumbles a rather small family member, between chomps of his mysterious breakfast.
The fourth monster is engrossed in an odd circular contraption, and is tilting it so that little beams of light bounce across the metal to create a pattern.
“Sharon,” Tony barks, “Get off the Kimmon Shal. It’s breakfast.”
The medium-sized alien reluctantly sets the device aside and begins eating the multi-coloured balls of goo that are, I assume, her flobtids, or flobtidi, whichever it is.
“Oh, yes, Susan,” Tony continues, “Here’s your… circular thing. This place has no proper utensils.”
“It’s called a plate, Tony,” I say proudly, “And why are, um, we here?”
Tony looks at me, shocked and confused. “Susan!” he whispers, “That’s Dad to you! And don’t you remember last night?”
“Last night? What happened then?” I query, utterly muddled, “And my name’s Mike!”
This is all the truth, but to my surprise his puzzled face disappears and is replaced with unstoppable chortling. I notice that the sweet-voiced creature is also giggling. Why? Nothing I said was even vaguely funny.
“Carah!” Tony exclaims between his guffaws, “I never knew our Susan could be such a comedian!”
By now I am fed up. I don’t know these hideous abnormalities and I shouldn’t be one myself. My name is Mike, not Susan.
“What did happen last night… Dad?” I ask again.
“Oh!” he exclaims, “You must have fallen asleep. Do you remember how I kept saying the paper reported good houses on Earth? Well, we left Jupiter last night and landed in the first patch of green stuff we found. Teleported them people to some other place, and moved in.”
I am shocked. They are invaders!
“I’m one of ‘them people’,” I roar, “Get out, you and your flobtidi or flobtids, whatever. Teleport my family home and GIVE ME BACK MY BODY!”
Good. I’m surprised at myself- I’ve scared Tony out of his skin scales. He hurriedly runs to a shining red flying saucer, with the rest of them, and presses a few buttons. Then my head starts to feel funny, and everything goes black.

I feel the day start to begin again. There is a note beside me-
Dear Mike,
We accidentally said ‘accept’ to a brain swap between you and our daughter Susan. Thank you for alerting us. Everything is normal once again, I think, and to say sorry we have restarted the day and erased your family’s memories of last night and this morning. Also, there are flobtids on your table. We looked it up and it is definitely not flobtidi.
Ugh. Flobtids. But I am completely normal! I slip on my usual clothes and run down the stairs. Cornflakes are waiting for me- hooray! Mum and Dad seem fine, but little Cassie is acting strange.
“What am I?” she is exclaiming, “And where’s the Kimmon Shal…”




Posted by Zoya on Tue, 08/13/2013 - 03:39
I get the end. An alien from

I get the end. An alien from Jupiter was turned into Cassie, or, whatever you called her. Not much like a boring story, this story was amazing! Maybe you should write a series about it. LOVE your work. Chiao! (That's Italian for by)

Posted by Renee on Tue, 09/03/2013 - 16:27

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