It was twenty after midnight. I had my double-barrel shotgun pinned against my chest, the barrel resting on my knee. The front iron was trained in the direction of the door, but drifted aimlessly as I felt my eyes give in. 

I awoke suddenly, the shotgun clattering onto the tile.

I was dreaming. What was it? 

I had only been asleep for a moment, but the vision replayed in my head. It was a conversation I had with a local, Rob. I later became good friends with him, but at the time, I had just rolled into town, my pickup loaded with everything from my old life.

Rob was at the station, filling up an old farm truck.

“Where ya headed?” he asked.

I flipped the gas cover open as I typed my old zipcode into the machine.

“Here, about,” I said, smiling. “You might be able to help me actually. Montgomery?”

His smile faded a bit at the name.

“You one of ‘em?” he asked.

“No, no. I just bought their old farm. Did you know them?”

He nodded, rubbing his chin. 

“One of ‘em. The last one, that is.”

“Young guy, right? I think I met him,” I said.

“Yeah, one of my buds, actually. Shame he had to skip town.”

He paused, and I took the gas nozzle and placed it in the neck of the gas tank. Great, he already hates me, I thought to myself.

“Why’d he sell?” I asked, scared of what the answer might be.

“Oh, had to, I suppose. I would’ve done the same.”

“Why’s that?”

“I think you’ll see soon enough.”

Rob opened his truck door and climbed inside, the old springs squeaking as he did. He slammed the door and leaned out the open window, a small card in his hand. 

“This road,” he said, pointing to the street. “Left at the bank, about eight miles south. I live on the same road. Call me when it happens.”

I took the card from his hand.

Rob’s Roofing, followed by his phone number.

“When what happens?” I asked.

Rob smiled. “It’s different for everybody. That’s what makes it hell. Good luck.” He sped away, and as I watched him go, I wondered what in the hell he was talking about.

I found the house a few minutes later. The old farm house was incredible. Faded, gray siding, wrap around porch full of holes and tall weeds growing through, and three stories, not including the basement. 

I couldn’t believe it was mine. And the land, too. Almost one hundred acres. 

“What was wrong with y’all?” I asked out loud to the absent Montgomery’s. 

The entire house was furnished, although the furniture was from the ‘70’s. I didn’t mind. It was all solid and relatively clean. 

I flicked the light on, as the sun was beginning to set. 

I brought everything inside, and it didn’t even begin to fill the old house. I sat back on the old sofa, cracking a beer. 

Need a television. And food. 

As I made my mental checklist, I couldn’t help but think of what Rob had said. 

Call me when it happens.

“What’s gonna happen? Is it gonna happen here?”

That’s what makes it hell.

I remembered the guy who sold it to me. He had said something strange, too, but I hadn’t thought a thing of it until Rob repeated it.

I was doing a walkthrough of the house, and the guy was showing me the basement. 

“Oh, sweet. I’ve always loved basements, even as a kid,” I said. “Me and my brother would play down there for hours.”

“I never cared for this one,” he had said. “Probably be different for you, though. It seems to change for everyone.”

“This house is great. Care if I look upstairs?” I had asked, completely missing the hint.

Changes for everyone. Different for everybody. What are they talking about?

At this point, it was about ten in the evening, and with no television, I was about ready for bed. I grabbed my duffel bag and headed up the stairs, bypassing the second floor and going straight to the third. 

There was only one room up there, and it was incredibly large. Each of the four walls held sliding glass doors, each with its own balcony. In the center of the room was an antique bed frame, probably made before the Civil War. The mattress appeared to have been made prior to that.

I threw my sleeping bag on top of the mattress and spread it smooth, tossing my pillow on the headboard. 

I grabbed my toothbrush and headed downstairs to the second floor bathroom. 

When I returned, my sleeping bag was gone. 

I dropped my toothbrush and stood in the doorway for a while, staring at the empty bed. Then, I pulled out my phone and called Rob. It rang once, and then I heard his voice.

“First night? It moves quick, huh?” he said, laughing.

“What’s the deal here, Rob?” I noticed my voice was shaking.

He chuckled into the phone, then he drew a big breath, exhaling slowly. 

“Yeah, it chased them away. The Montgomery’s. They had dealt with it for generations, man. He was going crazy.”

“Dealt with what?” I asked, panicked. I began backing out of the room and heading for the stairs.

“It didn’t hurt ‘em, not once. Took ‘em for rides, though. You can’t see that stuff and be normal, man.” Rob’s voice trembled a bit. I could tell he was done laughing, even as I ran out the front door and across the porch, sprinting to my truck. 

I gasped when I saw the sleeping bag. 

It was packed back in its bag, sitting on the bench seat of the truck. The bed was filled with everything I had moved inside. Even the toothbrush sat in the driver’s seat.

“What’s going on over here?” I asked loudly. “Come on, Rob, just tell me!” 

“It’s different for everybody,” he said. “Another world, I think.” 

I didn’t know what Rob meant, and I don’t know if he did, either. 

“Just stick it out,” he said. “Won’t hurt ya, I swear.” 

“I’m gonna get the hell out of here,” I said through gritted teeth. 

“Your call,” he said after a long pause. “Three stories and ninety-nine acres. And a few pranks here and there.” 

I exhaled and hung up the phone. I stared at the house for hours, waiting for something to move. A figure in the window, a flowing window curtain, a slamming door; none of it happened.

At four in the morning, I grabbed my sleeping bag and went inside, sleeping on the couch in the living room.

The shotgun fell to the floor again and I woke up. It was still dark outside. 

My back hurt from sleeping on the cold floor, but I still didn’t know when they would be back.

I thought about when I first saw them. It was summer, and I had lived in the house for almost three months. After the first night, there wasn’t much of anything that happened.

I worked on the plumbing, the air conditioner, and occasionally, the screwdriver would magically find itself in another room. Or outside. Or stuck in the ceiling. But after the first month, I saw the lights in the sky.

It was a meteor, but then it turned and darted in the opposite direction. It came close, and the light got much brighter. Then, the next night, it was bigger, and I could make out the shape of the craft, a spherical, glimmering thing.

On the third night, it hovered over the house for six hours. I could have reached out and touched it from the roof. I sat in the bed with my quilt pulled up over my head. I could hear them in the house, pacing outside the door of the bedroom, but they never tried the knob. 

The next day, I was stuck in the room. I walked through the doorway and reappeared across the room, coming in from the balcony. I tried this several times, breaking down into tears each time.

The clock on the wall read nine o’clock. Even hours later, it still read nine o’clock. 

I thought the power had reset, but then the sun didn’t set. It refused to move from just above the trees, watching me for days. There were no birds singing outside, no deer in the pasture, no trucks on the road. My phone died the night before, and plugging it in had no effect. 

I slept and paced, and eventually my hunger became so severe that I passed out while I was pacing, and when I awoke, the sun had set, and the clock read eleven.

Life went back to normal for a few months, but I figured there was something about this property. Something had driven the Montgomery’s away. I knew that they’d be back. 

A few nights ago, I dreamed that they had taken me into the ship, and when I woke up, they were crowded around my bed, watching me with their large, black eyes. They didn’t have mouths, but I heard them speaking, talking to each other about how they were going to fix my problems. They disappeared in the blink of an eye, but they stunk, and their smell hung around the house the rest of the day.

Then, last night, I dreamed of the ship again, and myself watching the Earth disappear into the smallest glimmer of star shine. 

When I woke up, I promised I wouldn’t sleep again.

I gripped the shotgun, breaking it open and verifying the live rounds were loaded. I clicked the safety back and forth, making sure it was off. They don’t use the door, but I didn’t want to be in my room.

The front yard lit up, a bluish glow illuminating it from above. In an instant, all the doors of the house slammed open. The windows all shattered simultaneously. Slowly, the smell of the creatures drifted in through the open door.

A gray figure peaked around the door frame, its child-sized hand gripping the wooden trim.

I let loose a shot from the gun, ripping into the wall and I heard the creature squeal, followed by the sound of its bare feet slapping across the porch in a panicked run. 

I ran after it, loading the empty barrel.

When my feet hit the porch, I stopped, gasping at the night sky.

There were so many crafts, all hovering over my house. Hundreds and hundreds of lights, all rotating casually in the air. The creature had disappeared around the corner, and quickly after, a ship lifted off from the other side of the house, and I could see several sets of glinting eyes looking out at me as it rose to join the others. 

I could hear them in my head. Or, more like feel them, as the pain of the gunshot creature echoed through all of them, and then through me. 

The ships drifted closer, and I fired at the closest one. It came closer still.

My ears rang from the sound of the gunfire. 

I raised my arms in a shrug at the craft, screaming for them to go away. Then, all was quiet.

I dreamed last night of a new world, gray and dismal. Maybe, soon, I’ll wake up.