The ship is experiencing some turbulence.

I sit on my bed in my sleeping quarters, watching the fluorescent light on my ceiling sway. The bright lights make my eyes hurt, but in a way, the pain is sort of soothing. At least, as long as I don't go blind. That would be a pain in the ass.

The swaying ship isn't my problem. That's what autopilot is for. I'm one of the lucky ones. My war experience got me a first-class seat on the Airship Heaven, a luxury craft where the rich get to live. And, of course, the few like me: army vets, trained to be bodyguards to the rich snobs.

In this case, my military training is a blessing. Most people probably wouldn't have heard the telltale "thunk."

The sound of a grenade, being slotted into an RPG launcher.

I duck under my bed, letting the metal posts form a safe cage. A grenade rolls to a stop mere inches from my face. It hisses, like an angry snake preparing to bite.

It's like no bomb I've ever seen. It's a dark blue box, etched with intricate white lines, almost like letters, though not like any language I've ever seen. Well... almost any.

It looks like the same language as the marks on the silos. That's what we called them. Big thick boxes that came down from the sky, etched with the same markings as this.

The ones sent by the aliens.

I scramble away only to find that the door to my room is shut and locked. Trapped in a room with an alien grenade.

But it doesn't explode. The hissing stops, then a loud pop, and then...

"Cree?" It's a strange sound, almost like you'd imagine the cry of a dinosaur. "Cree! Cree!"

And a strange, reptilian creature toddles towards me, with scales mottled purple and blue like a galaxy, and eyes as black as the space between the stars. He has four tails and four legs, and each tail seems to have a mind of its own. More like tentacles than tails, if you ask me.

Instinct tells me to kill it. But I don't think I can. Whoever shot the gun, it loaded this poor thing into a cannon and shot it at me. How disgusting of them. Seems like shitty parenting, if you ask me, and I know all about shitty parenting.

The creature, as if sensing my moral delimma, comes up to me and butts my leg.

"Crr?"

And just like that, I've got an alien buddy. I'm locked in my room in the middle of space with virtually no supplies. I don't know what it eats. But I'll figure it out.

"What's your name, little guy?"

"Cree!" And for the first time in a long time, I laugh.

"Alright, Cree. Let's find a way out of this room."

I lean over. His four tails all wind around my fingers.

I think, for once in my life, I've made the right choice.

Chuck’s stomach surged as the ground receded. The craft rose silently until the fields were nothing but a blur. Still higher, the whole world becoming a circle in the blackness of space.

As Chuck saw his home planet disappear, he thought: here we go again.

While others scoffed that there existed civilisations capable of interstellar travel, Chuck had first-hand experience. His first encounter had been with The Greys. He’d been seventeen when he was taken aboard their ship and tied to a bed. The small creatures traipsed into the room and regarded him from oval eyes.

He was returned untouched and unharmed. Seeking solace in other abductees, Chuck learned he had been lucky. There were stories of rectal probing.

From that time, Chuck kept an eye on the skies, wary of being taken again – aliens often returned once they found a suitable subject.

At twenty-seven, he had been in bed when a tall shape emerged from the shadows, wrapped bony arms around him and levitated him up to the heavens. Chuck was unable to move; he did not know if this was down to some stun-ray the alien had used or because he was terrified.

This encounter was worse than his first. He wasn’t tethered and floated uncontrollably in the gravity-free environment. He was left alone most of the time, which only made the times the creatures were present the more frightening.

These were not The Greys. They were eight feet tall, slender and deathly pale. The fact that they did not speak unnerved him. When they examined him, their touch was coarse.

Chuck was returned eight days later.

It did not take long to see the pattern to the abductions. Ten years later, he prepared himself for the next inevitable encounter. He made sure he always had a bludgeon on him.

While working in the fields, Chuck saw the ship land behind a copse of trees. He knew it had come for him. This time, he would be ready for them.

Taking a spade with him, he set off into the trees and made his way to the spacecraft. From the woods, he saw an alien coming from a hatch in the vehicle. For all his experience, Chuck struggled to hold onto his lunch; it was the most disgusting creature he had ever seen.

Two stubby legs supported a bulbous middle section. Flesh hung under its chin and, on either side of its squat head, two pieces of gristle stuck out. Its arms ended in a horrifying number of digits.

Taking a blue box from its pocket, the monster took out a thin cylinder. Putting one end to his face, holding a flame to the opposite end, the alien began to walk around the ship.

Chuck rushed for the entrance, hid in the first place he found and waited. Before long he felt the ship rising and, locating a porthole, he watched his home disappear.

Shovel gripped in his tentacles, Chuck slithered through the ship. It was payback time.

As I drive down this long deserted road in my old 1999 Rav 4- I find myself drive-dreaming (that's what I call daydreaming while driving)- I think about Heaven- and all the loved ones I have there waiting to see me-one day. Then, I start wondering if I will go to Heaven- and I become discusted with myself and everything bad I have ever done. Wondering if God will forgive me- when I know he will! I start to pray- Praying tp God- for a sign...a sign that will tell me that I am on the right path in my life.

I have been through alot in my life- I think of every mistake or regret- wondering if I made the right decisions. I picture myself dying and floating out to Heaven's gates on a ship that carries you from Earth and life to Heaven. I get to the gates and there is no one there- Just a blue box with my name on it. I pick it up and open the lid.

Inside is a peice of paper that says You ARE on the right path. Accepting me as your Lord and Savior was the first step. I forgive you for your mistakes as I love you the way you are.

I hear a horn and realize I am still drive-dreaming. I smile and remember that God does love me and I am forgiven for my sins. Heaven awaits me. Praise Jesus

There is an entire bus seat where this man could be sitting, so why he is sitting right next to me and invading my bubble with his knee and his hot breath is a mystery to me. Okay, so it isn’t a mystery, but maybe if I just stare blankly at the opposite window the guy will get bored of being a creep and not get off at the same stop as me and ask those same old questions about my age and where I live. My whole body is folding into my stomach with disgust. I want to punch him in the nuts so bad, but I try to remain calm. “If you punch him in the nuts,” I tell myself internally, “Then the whole situation will escalate, and you really just want to get home.”

Everyone else seems to be minding their own business, heaven forbid they ask the teenage girl if she would like assistance with the creep breathing into her ear canal. No one wants to get involved in a mess; they just want to go home and melt into their mattresses before they are forced to do it all again. Understandable, but still shitty.

I can see the man’s reflection in the window and, yeah, he is pretty fucking high. He looks like one of my dad’s friends, maybe he is, I don’t know. My sister would have just asked him already, “Do you know Frank?” Then she would have told him that if he kept looking at her, she would stick a fork through his eyeballs or something. I’m not my sister. Don’t get me wrong, I would stick a fork through his eyeballs, but I would try to avoid the confrontation if possible.

The creepy old man slides something my way. I see a little, blue box out of the corner of my eye, but I pretend not to. Persistent, he pushes the box into my thigh. I snap, “What‽” and then sigh and lower my voice, “Yes? Can I help you?” Pointing, he whispers, “Open it.” I don’t particularly like it, but I shrug and comply. The box contains a tiny wooden ship. “For you,” he says. His smile is almost endearing. Lifting the ship, I notice writing on the side: “The Time Traveler.”

When I look up again the man is gone. I mean really gone; I cannot see him anywhere. “Excuse me,” I say to the woman sitting a few feet away “Excuse me, but the old man…the one who was sitting here?” She looks confused, “What old man?” she asks, seemingly perplexed. “The one…” my words drift off as I notice the time flash in little red letters on the display at the front of the bus. The time says 6:00, but that’s impossible…then I look out the window and see that the part of town we are in is one we passed thirty minutes ago. I look back down at the tiny ship in my hands, “Time Traveler.”