Writing for Fun
August 2015
Visitors From Space - Jeanette Rothwell
Uncle Arthur's funeral was a quiet affair attended by a few nieces and nephews and some acquaintances. He had reached the grand old age of 92, but his wife, Auntie Betty, and various contemporaries had passed on some years ago. He and Auntie Betty had never had any children and Jess, his niece, had been his favourite.
Jess mourned his passing. When she was a young girl, Uncle Arthur had read to her and then as she grew up he had recommended and loaned her many books and they had spent hours together discussing literature and their likes and dislikes.
When the Will was read, he had left everything to Jess. 'Everything' was his small two-bedroom bungalow, its contents and a modest amount of money in the bank. It was some weeks after the funeral before Jess could bring herself to collect the keys from the Solicitor and walk down the hill to his bungalow.
When she entered she noticed that it was already starting to smell a bit musty in there so she threw open some windows and gazed around. She and her husband, Jim, already had a semi-detached house on the nearby estate and there was no room in there for Uncle Arthur's rather large and dark furniture. She knew she would have to dispose of most of it and sell the bungalow. She wandered around touching his favourite armchair, the footstall where she would sit to talk to him, his mug still on the kitchen table, and smiled fondly at the familiar rooms and neatness which her uncle had been fastidious about.
Next she opened the door to his second bedroom where he kept his vast book collection. A big bookcase stuffed with all sizes of books. She ran her fingers along the various familiar titles and noticed some which she had not got round to reading, but was determined to devour before she let them go.
When she got down to a lower shelf, she noticed an unfamiliar book, a small volume bound in black leather. She lifted it out and noticed immediately that it was very, very old, with yellowed pages, very brittle and needing careful handling. She thought it looked like a book of old recipes written in spidery writing with headings on each page. She decided to take it home with her to delve into at her leisure.
With one last look around she locked the front door, vowing to come back in a few days time to make an inventory of the contents to be sold or sent to the charity shop and climbed the hill back to her own home.
After dinner that evening, her husband, Jim, settled into his favourite armchair, turned on the television and promptly fell asleep. She settled into her own armchair, turned off the television and laid the leather bound book on her lap.
After attempting to decipher some of the recipes, which was a great strain on her eyes, even with her reading glasses, the book more or less fell open at a page headed 'Visitors from Space'. The first paragraph appeared to be a lot of mumbo-jumbo but then there was a little poem, which she read aloud:
'Let My Reader Beware, They Must Use this with Care, Taking this down from the bookcase Will release an alien straight from Space.'
There was then some more undecipherable mumbo jumbo which she struggled to pronounce.
Jim gave a gentle snore from his armchair, so she read it again, chuckling at its hint of magic.
The front doorbell rang and she put the book to one side and went down the hall to see the visitor. Much to her surprise there stood an elderly couple, each wearing a black cape with a hood. The man appeared to be bald as his hood revealed quite a lot of forehead, and the women's hood appeared to cover wispy white hair. They both had baby smooth skin, small thin lips, large blue eyes and little pointed noses.
She greeted them with, 'Hello, can I help you?'
The man replied, 'It's more a case of what we can do to help you.'
Recklessly she said, 'You'd better come in.'
She pointed the way to the kitchen and they appeared to glide down the hall. She looked to see what they were wearing on their feet, but couldn't see them under their long cloaks.
'Would you like a cup of tea?' she asked.
'Tea? What's that?' asked the woman.
'A drink,' replied Jess.
'Oh, yes, that would be nice,' she said and they both giggled at each other.
Jess made the tea, put the cups and saucers in front of them, 'Sugar?' she enquired.
After hesitating, the man said, 'Er. Oh yes'
Jess spooned the sugar into their tea as they followed all her movements with their large blue eyes. She then went to the cupboard and brought out the biscuit tin. Opening it she offered it to them. The man reached in and took out a Rich Tea biscuit and held it aloft. Jess smiled, thinking that the man possibly had some sort of dementia, took a biscuit herself and bit into it. The man and then the woman followed suit, giggled and proceeded to devour the whole tin of biscuits, licking their lips and obviously enjoying themselves, still giggling to each other.
Jess then proposed that they go and sit in the lounge so that they could talk about the reason for their visit. They followed her along the hallway and still she couldn't see their feet and they again appeared to glide along.
In the lounge, Jim was still gently snoring, so she asked them to sit down. Hesitantly they sat on the edge of the couch, looking around in wonderment.
'What's that?' enquired the man, pointing to the television.
Jess said it was a TV which they would switch on when they needed entertainment. The visitors looked at each other and giggled again.
The man suddenly declared, 'Uncle Arthur wants you to know that he hopes you will keep his book collection but get rid of all the other stuff in his house and he misses you lots.'
Jess gasped at this statement. 'Oh I will certainly keep the books,' she said.
'Good,' the man said, but then proceeded to move around the room, touching things, moving ornaments around, poking Jim who remained asleep, switching the lights on and off, tossing cushions around and generally being rather disruptive while the woman giggled and clapped her hands.
Jess was beginning to get rather alarmed at this behaviour, and she looked down at the little black book which had fallen open at another page reading 'Getting rid of aliens'.
She put on her reading glasses and deciphered the writing while cushions and ornaments were beginning to fly over her head. There was another poem which she hurriedly read in a loud voice:
'If aliens are beginning to give you a fright And taming them is in vane Read this poem when they are in sight And send them away with a pain.'
Again there appeared to be some magic words which she attempted to pronounce.
The woman stopped clapping and looked a little frightened.
Jess read it aloud again.
The man gave an almighty howl and clutched his stomach. The woman then did the same. They both glided hurriedly to the lounge door. Jess still couldn't see their feet. The front door opened as if by magic and they shot out as if they had been propelled by a cannon. Jess laughed at the expressions of surprise on their faces and thankfully shut the door after them.
'Jess, Jess, do wake up, I'm making a cup of tea, do you want one?' enquired her husband.
Jess opened her eyes wondering where she was for a moment. The little book was on floor in front of her. 'Oh Jim, I was having a dreadful dream,' she told him.
'I'm not surprised reading that gobbledogook – what was it – eye of newt, tail of rat, etc.'
'Something like that,' she laughed.
He went out to the kitchen to finish making the tea.
'Jess' he called,' What on earth happened to the biscuits, this tin is quite empty.'