It’d flashed across the sky; there then gone. Lucy was certain she’d seen a UFO and was just as sure that aliens had a habit of secretly trying to contact humanity. Maybe they’d choose her? Maybe she’d get to be the one who was invited into their ship. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

She’d often go on these tangents, these ramblings and there was nothing anyone could say that would derail her thinking. Even speaking in support went unheard by her.


So, I learned to shut out her babbling, idle, nonsensical blather while letting my own mind wander; free, untethered for a moment—just a heavenly moment.

While Lucy spoke of little green men, I thought on the flash that had lit up the night, as well.

I wondered what we, the Earth, the people here looked like to the hunk of catapulting cosmic whatever. Through the veil of green fire it was coated luxuriously within, what did I look like?

What did it think of me?

Was I impressive? Disappointing? Inspiring?

Or was it blind to me?

Was I a speck to be seen, or something lesser—a mite—that couldn’t be observed and wasn’t thought on?

I sighed and clutched my cooling cup of coffee tighter, trying hard to think on the warmth, to feel it and not let it pass away.


A breeze stole through the street, blowing my scarf around my face, chilling my skin, and sucking the fire from my cup.

I let go of my drink and tucked my hands into my jacket pockets, vaguely tuning into Lucy’s monologue.

“…amazing to think we aren’t alone, isn’t it?”

I gave a nod, a tight-lipped smile, though she barely recognized them, and she went on talking about the rock that had flashed by in brilliant colours, and hadn’t seen me.

If you liked this, you might also enjoy these other flash fiction pieces!

Whiskey Street Blues

The Old Wolf

In Bloom


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.