It started subtly, according to Alex. Flickering lights in his house, static on the radio, the constant feeling of being watched – the usual things you might dismiss as "just stress." But Alex said it felt different, heavier. He kept telling himself, "It's nothing, just too much caffeine." Then came the night everything changed. One moment, he was in his cozy little farmhouse, the scent of old wood and his wife’s perfume still lingering in the air. The next, he was…somewhere else entirely.
Imagine being yanked out of your life, like a fish on a hook. No warning, no explanation. Just…gone. That's what Alex described. He found himself aboard a vessel that defied all logic. Cold metal, strange lights and beings…oh god, the beings. He said their faces swam in his memory, grotesque, alien, their eyes like black holes sucking in the light. They poked and prodded, their touch sending shivers down his spine that, he swears, still linger today. He felt like a specimen under a microscope, a bug pinned to a board.
They told him to forget. They whispered warnings in his ear, their voices like static, like a thousand airplanes roaring in the distance. “Forget,” they said. As if he could. As if the memory wouldn’t haunt his every waking moment, wouldn’t worm its way into his dreams and turn them into nightmares. Now, Alex lives in a cramped apartment in Manhattan, miles away from his old life. His wife is gone, his old job is gone. All he has is the memory and the sound. That relentless, deafening sound of 1,000 airplanes that pounds in his skull, a constant reminder of what he can't and mustn't forget.
Alex tried to tell someone. Once. A first date. He saw the skepticism in her eyes, the pity. She thought he was crazy, lost in some delusion. And maybe…maybe we all wonder that a little. But I’ve known Alex a long time and I know he believes what he says. And the terror in his eyes when he recounts it, that raw, primal fear, is something that sticks with me. Every time he sees a shadow, every flicker of light, it sends his heart racing. He feels like he’s still on that ship, still being watched, still waiting for the next…visit.
Reviewers might call it a metaphor for loneliness, for loss. Maybe it is for some people. But for Alex, it's real. It’s as real as the scars on his mind, the phantom pain of their touch, the endless roar of those airplanes. I look at him and I wonder how many others are walking around with this secret, this terror, burning inside them. How many have seen what Alex has seen, heard what he’s heard and are trying, desperately, to keep it buried?
So, what do you think? Have you ever had a friend tell you something that made you question reality? Have you experienced anything…off? I’m sharing Alex’s story because I think it’s important to listen, even when it’s hard to believe. Your thoughts and experiences, shared openly, mean the world. And if Alex’s journey of unearthing these truths resonates with you, if you feel compelled to support him in any small way, it would be deeply appreciated and would help him keep shining a light on these dark, forgotten corners. Your comments and support truly help fuel the fire.
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