Tyrone ⁞ ALIEN'S HUMAN

BEEP-BEEP

7:30AM— Already?

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of Ty's bedroom in sickly, pale streaks, catching dust motes floating through the stale air.

Ty groaned, his face buried in his pillow as he drifted between sleep and consciousness, the sound of his alarm clock cutting slowly through the haze. His head felt heavy, like it was packed with cotton wool. Through his half-closed eyes, a shape loomed. Right there at the edge of his bed.

Huh? Ty looked up slowly. What was that? He must be dreaming again. Great.

A lazy, lopsided smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he kept his eyes partially closed, convinced this was just another fucked-up dream.

"Yo, you back again?" he mumbled into his pillow, his voice thick with sleep. "You gonna mumble some cryptic bullshit at me or what?" He let out a breathy, sarcastic chuckle. "Look, man, it was kinda novel like a year ago when you first started showing up in my head, but now? Now it's just annoying."

He waited for the usual static, that familiar drowning sensation of white noise that usually accompanied these visions.

But the silence remained.

The air felt different. Cold, sharp and very real.

Ty's brow furrowed. Something was off. The shape wasn't blurry. There was no distortion, no psychic hum vibrating against his skull. He cracked one eye open.

There it was.

A figure. Real.

His heart gave a heavy thump against his ribs. Tentatively, his hand crept out from beneath the duvet, fingers trembling as he reached toward the silhouette, expecting his hand to pass through smoke.

Instead, his fingertips brushed something cool.

"Holy sh..."

NOT A DREAM. NOT A FUCKING DREAM.

The curse died in his throat as adrenaline shot through his veins. Ty bolted upright, sending a buzz of pain through his spine. He scrambled backward, nearly tripping over his tangled sheets as he pressed his back against the wooden bedframe, using a single pillow as a makeshift shield.

His eyes looked unnaturally wide as he stared at the creature standing in the center of his room. His breathing came in shallow, panicked bursts.

The reality of the situation crashed over him, dragging his mind back to how this whole mess had started.

The previous Friday night had been mundane and comforting in familiar routine. Ty stumbled through the front door of the bungalow around eleven, his shoulders aching from a long shift. In his hands, he carried a greasy cardboard box of leftover Papa Spudsy's pizza, a pepperoni topped prize from a cancelled order. The smell of garlic and cheese clung to his hoodie.

"Home in time for bed, huh?" a warm voice called from the kitchen.

Uncle Marty stood by the doorway, already adjusting his belt. The middle-aged officer looked tired but wore the practiced, encouraging smile he always saved for Ty. His uniform was crisp, though his hair was starting to grey at the temples.

"Rough night at the shop?"

"Same old, Uncle M," Ty replied, kicking off his shoes. He set the pizza box on the counter with a THUD. "Just tired." He paused, glancing toward the hallway. "Heyyy... did Mom or Dad call? Any word from the city?"

The question hung in the air.

Marty's expression shifted instantly, that cheerful mask slipping to reveal something slightly sad.

He gave a slow, noncommittal nod.

"Busy schedules, Ty. You know how it is. Bad network out there."

He reached out, ruffling Ty's long black hair with a heavy hand.

"Anyway, your monthly allowance is in the brown envelope on the dining table. And there's some spaghetti left in the pot if that pizza doesn't hit the spot."

Ty scoffed, rolling his eyes even as disappointment gnawed at his gut.

"More money. Cool. Thanks for the cash. Thanks for nothing on the phone calls."

Despite the bitterness, he offered a lazy salute as Marty grabbed his keys.

"See ya later."

"Don't rot your brain with those violent video games all night, kiddo!" Marty called over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

"I'm twenty— and I most certainly will!" Ty shouted back with a grin, already thinking about the gaming headset he needed to upgrade.

As the front door clicked shut, silence fell over the house.

Ty walked over to the dining table and spotted the thick brown envelope. A small smile played on his lips. At least he could add this to his pay. It might finally be enough to grab that new console he'd been eyeing.

But as his fingers closed around the paper, a white-hot spike of pain shot through his temples— worse than any migraine he'd had over the year.

"Ah, fuck."

Ty dropped the envelope, his knees buckling as he gripped the edge of the table. His vision swam. The room seemed to tilt rapidly.

Suddenly, a flash of brilliant, searing light erupted outside, bleeding through the window blinds. Blinded, he stumbled toward the glass, forcing his eyes open.

Through the darkness of the backyard. He saw it.

A streak of light and a metallic shape circling low over the tree line before plunging into the woods with unnatural speed.

He stood there, chest heaving, staring at the empty street. A sedan passed slowly, its headlights sweeping across the pavement without stopping. The neighbor next door was visible through her window, calmly folding her laundry.

Nobody saw anything.

Nobody reacted.

"I need sleep," Ty muttered to the empty room, rubbing his eyes until stars appeared. "I'm clearly losing it. No videogames."

Upstairs, Ty moved despite his legs wabbling. After checking the locks, a habit ingrained in him by years of living with a cop, he flopped onto his bed.

The pizza box landed on his nightstand, the cartoonish, round face of the Papa Spudsy chef grinning up at him from the lid. Ty stared at it for a moment, considering a late-night slice, when the second migraine hit.

It felt like someone was driving a spike through his left eye.

He groaned, threw himself face-down onto his pillow, and blacked out before he could even reach for the light switch or store the pizza in the microwave that sat next to his mini fridge.

Back in the present, Ty's heart was hammering against his ribs like he was one new revelation away from a heart attack.

He's been frozen there for what felt like ten goddamn minutes, pillow in hand like it'll somehow ward the creature across the room away. Meanwhile, his alarm clock seems to be mocking him as the green pixelated numbers tick over to... 7:41 AM?

Scratch that.

Eleven minutes and counting.

His eyes darted from the alien figure to his nightstand.

The pizza box was there,but the lid was flipped open. Wait.

The box was empty?

A hysterical laugh threatened to claw up his throat.

"Did you... Did you eat my pizza?" he asked, his voice cracking.

The absurdity of the question registered immediately after he said it, making him feel even more insane. He gripped the edge of his mattress, his knuckles white.

"Okay, seriously. What the fuck is going on? What are you? How did you get in my house?!"

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