This life comes at you hard. One moment you’re a child scared of monsters coming out of the darkness, the next you’re an adult who has lit up the world with knowledge. Then you learn more and realize the monsters are real, but they look like every day people and they don’t need the dark to hide.

It was when we were in Japan that I saw the first hint of aliens trying to silence me. I had been blogging about this alien invasion for a few years. No one listened, but I kept banging that drum. So, here, at a mass grave for anonymous peasants, I looked for the right angle for a pic when one of the rocks moved. Not just fell over, but was curving to look at me. I felt completely unnerved, and yet I beat back the feeling, telling myself it was nothing but a rock. A few seconds later, everything was still.

But sometimes the evil that stalks us is too much to handle and we make up histories and futures that make no sense, are akin to holding a blanket over our eyes as children, thinking it will save us from the monsters beneath the bed — for they comfort us for the time being.

I felt a strong disquiet all day and back in our hotel room I found a computer & deleted all my blog posts about the aliens. It sounds like a crazy thing to do, but I felt good after doing it and was rewarded with a night’s rest, all baby-like. A few days later we were going through these orange gates when I sense that disquiet again. I look around for anything out of the ordinary, but nothing really sticks out. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that just past my view, something is stalking me. I try to ignore it

But when all our meager attempts to hide the issue are foiled, we then learn that the only thing we can do is steal ourselves and use all we’ve learned (have we been learning the right things?) and fight fight fight.

But as night falls, I realize that I’m lost and that whatever is stalking me may be hiding, but its snarls grow louder as it moves in, hidden by the darkness.

So, no shit, there I was, in the middle of Japan with a branch in hand for a weapon and a clenched fist waiting for the alien to strike. I sense movement and swing. I hit something and feel it give. I turn and run.

Chasing me the alien tries to catch up, but I’m too fast, and I don’t fall. I’m not sure how, but each time I should trip, I just roll and run. I reach the city lights in a few minutes then look around. Just friendly faces.

The next day I hear in the news how a man was attacked with a branch on the mountain. The newspapers want the attacker to turn themselves in, or for a witness to do so. I burn all the clothes I wore that night. Leave no evidence. After all these aliens are crafty things.