THE STORYTELLER

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       ART BY KEN LEHNIG

A LETTER TO DOCTOR DANIELS               

  BY KEN LEHNIG

My name is Abraham Moses Jennings; a name you well know. It is three in the afternoon and because of what I know I will not survive the night.

That statement alone would have me diagnosed as a paranoid and would pleasurably boil your morbid curiosity. Trust me the agents of my demise are real and determined. Maybe in the end a psychiatrist that is a self-serving and compulsive liar, as myself, would be the perfect choice for what I am about to impart to you. Once you do the only thing a well balanced, fully integrated, well-adjusted, sane person would do; which is to dismiss everything I claim, you will dismiss it and I will be dead.

I am a liar, though not entirely a fraud, thriving in New York City. That is to say that being a liar was the first building block in the construct of my life -after I succeeded in attaining my Ph.D. When I signed on my license I purposely neglected to write or type in my surname, Jennings. If the State Board missed it, as I hoped they would, I would be Dr. Abraham Moses. If, on the other hand, they caught it I would feign shock, embarrassment, and surprise and make the correction.

They missed it and I spent twenty years as a successful 'Jewish' therapist to New York's richest Neurotics. I discarded the Michigan bred middle class rural Lutheran for the Agnostic, urban reformed, Jew. The result, as I had hoped, I was made rich and respected. I have one living relative, who I have never met, and I had disconnected from my friends once I left college. My old self just disappeared. Sadly, my Lutheran guilt-based Christian Ethic dictated that I must pay for my transgressions; not only for my dubery to raise myself up as a good American seeking, prospering, and pursuing happiness, but also for my deliberate exploration and delving into matters best left to the divine. Those machinations are and should be hidden from all but the Angels who have the awesome task of implementing the working of each cog in that great and cosmic device.

That does not sound like an Agnostic, nor am I Ecumenical. I am, however, a Realist and an Expectant for I believe now, in horror and fear, that there are more things in the heavens and earth than my simple philosophy contain. Indeed, good Doctor, I write this to you as an 'eclaircissement.

I write this to you precisely because you have declared yourself my foeman, and I, in the truest form, accept your summons. For these ten years you have repudiated every word I have ever published as pop-cultured dribble and I have never offered any rebuttal. I am the fraud and liar; you are soulless and an autocratic extortionist. You have found my elevatory deception and I have found yours, you waste your intellect being a ruthless demonic repudiator. You care not for the pure truth only your version of it, using your status as a club. So now, as a legacy, I give you something into which you may sink your rapacious teeth. I now put you at mortal risk. There will be no safety in your red leather chair or ebony desk, surrounded by precious mementos, glorifying your intellect and status. I put you into life, into the ugliness of a world of which you know nothing Doctor-in an existentially ugly -horrible life.eeeeeeeeeeeee

Here then is the story, some of this tale you know because you are the author of much of it. As you know I had befriended a writer of horror fiction. His fiction intrigued me and is uniquely disturbing; all of his books dealt with the dangerous unseen. Each book's protagonists were targeted by what amounted to monsters under the bed. I had met him socially and liked him very much. We lived only a few blocks apart. One evening at dinner he asked me if I knew of another author who had written of the abduction phenomena and that this same author was brave enough to write of his own experience. I said I had, in passing, but did not take the whole UFO thing with much seriousness. He confided that he too was an abductee. I was astonished that such a bright and seemingly stable man could fall prey to such delusions. He continued to share in detail his experience and always with insightful Jungian connexions. I was 'you', Doctor, I could hear nothing as true and real, but God help me, it was still compelling. I diminished and insulted my friend with a smirk and a written prescription. He handed back the chit and laughed at me. Rising, he said he would send me some documents to peruse, chuckled, slapped my back and left. I was stuck, rightly, with the tab. I feared I had lost a most interesting friend to whom I had developed some affection.

That next Friday afternoon a box arrived at my home, in it were several thick files. I took the time to look through them recognizing many prominent and respected names. No sleep came that night, dear Doctor. I read each case mesmerized. Some of the work was sloppy and verging on irresponsible, given the extraordinary nature of the subject matter and the new ground it covered, some latitude had to be given for the well being of the patient. The extent and clarity of each patient's experience startled me at its honesty and power. If this was Jung's archetype, rooted in the collective consciousness and dismissed as cultural phenomena due to societal stresses, he never read these files. Seeing and photographing UFO's in Sweden and writing a new religion coming from telepathic Venusians was easy to dismiss in a thousand ways; whether it was true or not. These files described experiences of abductions, terrifying and painful examinations performed by beings other than human, lost time, implants, scars, and pregnancies started and abruptly terminated. Many of the stories did not even mention UFO's as part of the experience. Individually they could be dismissed as schizophrenic manifestation, paranoid delusion , a neurological disorder, or a malfunction of the frontal lobes. But taken in a statistical context, based on world wide experiential similarities,  it speaks to a wider and more profound mystery. At the end of the night I didn't know if I was convinced enough to dare any hypothesis. In other words, I gave up and suffered a protracted bout with depression. My practice was stalled under a barrage of excuses to my secretary and my clients were shuffled off to less qualified others. I, the self -proclaimed genius with a lie for a name, was bleak over the worry of the impossible. All I believed to be true was unraveling under the sufferings of those who's lives were shredded and alienated by what you and I would have bet was no more or less than an encephalopathy.

When I was at my worst, you, in primal cruelty and with the darkest humor sent me Jamie Owens. She knocked on my door, at my home, and I answered looking like a wraith. She shook my hand nonplused walking by me and finding my disheveled office threw some papers off a chair and sat. I stripped off my housecoat and put on a jacket and followed her. She spoke before I did. She said that you, Doctor, were an insufferable ass, I laughed out loud and concurred. She then asked me if I could help her. All I could do, in better humor than I had experienced  in days, was nod.

She was thirty -four, 120 lbs and according to her med records, which she handed to me briskly, she was healthy. She continued to volunteer information; which I jotted down and with permission recorded. She considered herself Afro-American although her father was white. She graduated Harvard law, well read, married 14 years…mostly happy…balanced sexuality but often finds her husband too demanding and selfish …no children yet…apartment in Manhattan and a house, in the woods, in upper state New York. She suffered anxiety attacks, fatigue, constipation, and general flu-like symptoms. She had gone through Doctors like a scythe through a wheat field, had every test possible, with negative results. She was advised to seek psychiatric assistance. She reluctantly went to you and confided the truth and you, knowing of my new hobby and with total disregard for your Hippocratic oath, sent her to me as a joke. I took her as my only patient, willingly, to help her and to damage you. It didn't work that way.

Ms. Owens was forthright. She expressed a belief that her condition was directly related to the after effects of the visitations and abductions she endured. After the passionate outburst she sat stiffly and stared at me. I responded that I was well versed in the abduction phenomena; which was now true, and believed I could help her; which was not. She visibly relaxed. When I began to explain how I would like to proceed she stopped me and requested that she be able to share every aspect of her experience, first, without any input from me, then when she was done I could respond. Since I was making it all up anyway, I agreed. She avowed a sincere belief that each instance of visitation corresponded to each of her symptoms. She could find no tangible thread and hoped that in the listening I might see the connections. I did not reveal to her that in this partnership I might be able to make sense of both our dilemmas.

The process went well as I had only hoped.

Ms. Owens had her first known sighting two years ago. She had to work late in the city and her husband had driven up to their retreat in the woods earlier that day to do some work on the property. The road to the cabin was desolate once one left the highway. It was two in the morning and she was musing over her actions on a difficult case. She claimed to be blasted by a brilliant light that startled her from her reverie. The light she described as being impossibly bright. It was all she could do to stop the car and climb out to acquire a better view of what she described as a craft. The manifestation was of a size not easily discerned. It seemed to float silently above her about thirty feet from the top of the car. She could make out a circle of red lights some fifty feet in diameter. The interior was comprised of a tight cluster of white blazing lights with a brighter spot exactly in the center. Ms. Owen said she felt no fear, only an oddly relaxed curiosity. It hovered for what seemed a few minutes then headed straight up in a flash and was gone. Laughter and astonishment was her only reaction. She covered her mouth, after telling me the story, and began to giggle demurely, then burst out into laughter with what appeared to be relief. I let her compose herself without a comment, as was our agreement. She continued the accounting of events, after apologizing and wiping her eyes.

Arriving at the cabin, later that evening, she worried about telling of what had transpired to her very conservative husband and decided to keep it to herself. Disarming the alarm she entered a dark uninviting house. She was disturbed then became alarmed, she said that she had the feeling that an intruder had somehow entered the house, she retrieved a hidden pistol from a cabinet next to the front door. Bravely running up stairs she switched on the light to their bedroom. The bed had been slept in but was now empty. She called for her husband. He did not answer. Composing herself she went downstairs and used the kitchen to call her husbands cell. She heard it ring in the living room. Hanging up the phone she ran into the living room. A fire was made earlier but now was only embers. The clock chimed five making her stand in bewilderment. That could not be right it would not have taken that long to get here. Where had the time gone? A bright flash of light outside the windows made her turn her head. Thinking again of her husband, she ran upstairs, the light in the bedroom had been turned off. She switched them on to find her husband lying on his back snoring, loudly. He never snored. At this point in the narrative, she insisted I know just how odd it was that her husband was snoring. I'm afraid, Dear Doctor, that I lost my professional demeanor, albeit, only for a moment. She begged me to acknowledge the fact, as she presented it, as the foundation for the truth and validity of the whole story. Doctor, she was right to focus on the familiar and tangible and in fact, that she did, allowed me to find the whole narrative credible. I told her I believed her and begged her to continue the story in the next session the following day.

The next day she was a different person. Red eyed and visibly exhausted, she spoke haltingly and cried often. She tried to tell me of the following summer but the words stuck in her throat. At that point I decided to offer hypnosis by way of assistance.

Doctor, I know you disavow any use of hypnosis as a therapeutic tool. However, in her state, even if it only helped her to relax, the benefit outweighed any gain toward her recovery. I professed to her no great expertise. She was willing and it didn't take long to have her in a deep state of relaxation. I asked her to go back to her cabin last summer and tell me what transpired that had caused her such vexation. She started to tremble and I reminded her she was perfectly safe. She was only observing and no harm could come to her. I asked her to relax and tell me about the trip. She said they had done a lot of work on the house. Her health had been a problem and her husband was supportive of every effort to find a cause. Her husband took three weeks off his job to be with her hoping that it would help. It did. She had more energy each morning she awoke. Within a week she was alive and vital. Her husband benefited by her newfound love of life. She giggled and confessed that she was constantly horny and taking into account the privacy of their home, she ambushed her husband often, no matter where they were. This was not the behavior of an otherwise shy person but she said that she needed a baby and had became obsessed with the idea. She never shared the thought with her husband. He was content that she behaved like a wanton and she said it suited her as well. I asked if any thing else unusual happened during their stay.

She became quiet. I asked where she was. In a quite voice she said she was in bed. It was dark and her husband was snoring. She could not move and began to panic.  I told her to breathe and relax. She did. Her eyes able to move looked to the left side where she observed her husband being lowered into bed. A voice said:

"Do not worry… your husband is fine and will remember nothing."

She caught movement to her right and stopped. I asked her what she saw. I reminded her she was safe. She let out a loud sigh. A horror of a creature with large eyes and a large head bent down within inches of her face. The creature spoke in her mind.

It said. "Why are you awake? We don't need you."

And then she was out, blinking and staring at me.

It this point, you will be amused Doctor, I felt I was over my head. I called Dr. Jean Lyman; I had used her in difficult regression cases. I told her about the case and asked her help, she agreed, with a caveat she would share over dinner, I agreed.

The dinner was pleasant and the first time I had been out of my apartment for way to long. Over an aperitif she said she was thrilled concerning my delving into this field. She felt my credibility would add weight to the premise and argument. She then said that she had a theory that there was something much deeper going on than just alien abduction. She promised that her professional involvement would not be colored by her hypothesis.

I agreed and that was our doom.

You have already read the newspaper's account of her terrible death. She did not cut her wrists in a bathtub and her husband did not have a heart attack, she and he were most assuredly assisted in those wasteful acts and that is also part of the story.

Dr. Lyman pored over every file sent to me by my writer friend and the recorded accounts of my sessions. I was complimented on my technique. She insisted with some vigor to get started with Ms.Owens as soon as was possible. I was concerned at the look in her eyes.

Jamie Owens was enthusiastic at the prospect of a deeper understanding of her experience She went under quite easily and Dr. Lyman started where I left off. Ms. Owens began her narrative. Upon seeing the creature and hearing it's words she had closed her eyes. The creature had apparently changed its mind. She felt herself lifting off the bed. Opening her eyes she was bathed in light making everything in the room indistinct. The light, she commented, could be felt as if fingers of electricity were crawling all over her body. At this point she paused in the account flushing quite visibly. She smiled and said she was naked but didn't remember when that had occurred. She was sure she was wearing a nightgown her mother had given her for Christmas. With Dr. Lymans urging, she continued. The light delivered her into a white room and on to a table not dissimilar to medical examination table. The room was a featureless white with out a visible source of light. She noted smaller creature's scurrying around busily. The largest being came over to her again and touched her arm. She sensed that it was telling her that they were going to do procedures on her and that there may be some discomfort but all would be well. A large device with multiple instruments attached lowered from a hidden area in the ceiling. She saw two thin needle- like probes enter into her nose she tried to scream or move out of the way, she could do neither. She felt a horrible popping noise along with a sharp pain as the devices pushed deep into her skull. The sensation felt like vertigo that never quite developed. The instruments retracted and the whole device moved back up into the ceiling and disappeared. The warmth of blood ran from her nose and being unable to move, she was incapable of wiping it away. The taller creature moved over to her and put his hand gently on the outer lips of her vagina. She gasped. Dr. Lyman spoke quietly, telling her she was that she was only observing an event, no harm would come to her and to not be afraid. Ms. Owens continued after a deep breath. The "Gray" spread her vaginal lips and fixed a thumb on her clitoris.

It was the first time she used the word Gray to describe the creature. It gave me pause. I tapped Dr. Lyman motioning her to move away from our patient. She turned to Ms. Owens and told her to sleep and that she would be back.

When she came to me she was angry. I told her to relax. I informed her that letting the patient sleep would do no harm. She called me a name and informed me that we may lose the memory line. Ignoring the comment, I said that I believed the whole incident to be a fraud. Explaining that in previous conversations I had found a possibility that the whole story was a cover. Dr. Lyman agreed which set me back. I explained to her that I found Ms. Owens to be strong willed brilliant and had a need to control her environment. She was moderately sexually repressed and was conflicted about starting a family or staying with a very lucrative career. Dr. Lyman pointed out that I had just described seventy-five percent of all women. Her sarcasm aside, I said that I believed the next part of the session would dispel the abduction scenario for a more common, if no less crippling, series of incidents. She looked at me then blurted out an astounding theory that the UFO and abduction scenario was a cover memory for an occult based event. She quickly revealed that she knew that Mr. and Ms. Owens had dappled in the occult. It was you, good Doctor, who told her and you, Sir, will get all you have coming for such an offensive ethical and moral breach. I, in spite of my own reservations, allowed Dr. Lyman to continue. She furthered her theory, as I learned, based in a Christian Ethos. She believed that those who seek answers in the occult (I translated non-Christian). The more the leaning, the more the mathematical probability that such UFO incidents will be experienced. The Paradigm was a deviance of the mind created by forces much older than any alien civilization. She smiled and whispered for effect …Dark Angels and the Great Deceiver. She turned around and went back to our patient leaving me in shock and dismay. I don't know why it bothered me. I was willing to except the improbable, why not the fantastic? Could a Gray be a Dark Angel? Would the failure of science in this matter be more easily explained in the supernatural? Where Physics fails, could Metaphysics be a better place to find the truth and madness. As I would discover, Dear Doctor, madness has many addresses.

I walked back in. Dr. Lyman waited for me by further soothing Ms.Owens. I had begun to unravel and felt off balance but allowed Dr. Lyman to continue. I felt that no harm would come to our patient. Whatever the foundation for the illness its revelation would promise the possibility for a cure or at least a lessening or secession of the symptoms.

Mrs. Owens continued her story. The Gray began to masturbate her with nothing less than mastery. The Gray moved between her legs. She feared she would be raped although a part of her demanded it. One orgasm after another rolled over her and left her exhausted. She felt that she should feel ashamed at the violation but couldn't.

A voice in her mind said, "You are welcome …you deserved it."

The Gray was handed a pointed tool …she was told there would be no pain but they wanted to test her uterus. The device only stung slightly. A fog covered her and she found herself naked on her bed. She bolted to the bathroom and looked in the mirror in horror at the blood on her face. She sat on the toilet and examined her belly button and her vagina; it was swollen and wet. Her clitoris stood at attention, vaginal muscles still throbbed from the orgasms. She cleaned up, ran into the bedroom and looked down at her sleeping husband. She dropped her head and spoke in obvious shame at what she did next. She raped her husband. First she woke him with fellatio, something repugnant to her, when she achieved what she needed she mounted him and gave him the night of his life. She never told her husband of the encounter and didn't tell him of the subsequent abortion.

We ended the session.

I spent time the next morning with Dr. Lyman. Who presented her theory to me in depth. There was validity in her thinking and after having a cognac blurred night I was thrilled that there was some science, perhaps even better science than the other side presented. Little green men against demons and devils. Lions tigers and bears… Oh-my! You were having your way with me Doctor. You bastard. And I was to far in to save Dr. Lyman, her wonderful husband, you, or myself.

A few days later Ms.Owens called exuberant and touting the benefits of the sessions. I warned her that it may only be a temporary situation and not to give up on our sessions. She whole heartily agreed and asked if I would speak to her husband. I agreed and the meeting with she and her husband, Ben, went very well. He told me that he listened to his wives version of events. He was skeptical but open to a continuation of therapy and had the greatest respect and confidence in me. Ms. Owens asked if Dr. Lyman and I would come to their cabin for the weekend for another hypnosis session. Mr. Owens would not attend but gave his gracious assent.

I made arrangements and we were on our way early Saturday morning .The trip was pleasant and scenic. The cabin was very secluded and quite rustic with a primitive split log exterior façade, however, the interior was modern and beautifully decorated. We had a late lunch of salad, hard roll, cheese, cold cuts, and a wonderful Riesling.

We finished our wine on the deck overlooking a verdant canyon with light and undirected conversation. The Owens' had installed cameras and sensing systems around the house and I was shown the controls, should a need come to turn off alarms or contact the Ranger station.

As the sun was going down Ms.Owens asked if we were ready. We said we were and very shortly Ms. Owens was lying on her bed, in -trance and ready.

Dr.Lyman did not start her questions with the abduction. She surprised me and took another tack. She regressed Ms. Owens to the night of the UFO sighting. She did not seem to care about the road event but centered on what happened when she went to bed that night .She asked for tiny and minute details. Where were their bodies on the bed? What was the temperature? What were her dreams? What sounds and movements did her husband make? Then Ms. Owens remembered a sting behind her ear. I made a note. Dr. Lyman moved her ahead to the night of the abduction. She was moved again to remember every detail. She felt again a sting to her ear and another on the bottom of her foot. Her husband yelped in his sleep then settled down. The Doctor shifted again to questions of details in the room, mirror on the table, type of material on the lamp shade, what perfume she wore, what cologne her husband was wearing, count the number of times her husband breathed in a minute, What did she see in the corner? Ms. Owens stiffened and went mute. Dr. Lyman asked my help. She asked me to grip her feet while she put her hands under the women's shoulders. She then asked me to lift, I was taken aback, our charge seemed to have little weight as she rose easily into the air. When we lowered her to the bed her breathing was even and steady. Dr. Lyman head nodded for me to leave the room with her.

She explained to me that what she was doing was to focus on the reality of those evenings outside the influence of the manufactured drama. She begged me to be open minded, she explained, that what she expected was for the demon to show itself. I begged her to not use that word and that the idea of catholic supermundane erudition was repugnant to me and not in the best interest of our patient. I accused her of sophistry and working to her own ends, an agenda without regard for truth or its discovery. I further threatened to remove her from the case. She only smiled and with a raised hand asked my forgiveness. She asked if I believed that Ms. Owens had seen an UFO or if there was an abduction? I answered the first was possible the later doubtful, given what we knew. She continued. She believed that the stress and demands of life were grinding people under in this too-fast world. In fact the world was diminishing the value of each individual by allowing no way to win. She suggested the fall of any society rooted in the ideal of sameness. The mind finds no place to find peace; there is no place to rest. There is no redemption in a secular world and we all embrace its demands, terrors and stresses, in spite of its lies and fraud. We can't fight we can't stand, and we can't run away. We are vulnerable and unprotected to the whims of the uncaring universe. She scolded me that in calling her argument sophistry only pointed to my hypocrisy. She further accused me of loving, more, the riches my practice provides and not in the relief and cure of my patients. Touché.

I asked where would this go? She said have faith and lets see. Imagine that, Doctor, faith?

We went back into the bedroom Ms. Owens was still stiff. She slept deeply. Dr. Lyman asked her what was happening. She started to describe the Gray…Then looked down at her feet and screamed. Dr. Lyman looked at me with shock on her face, this wasn't expected. She whispered in our patient's ear that she must stop screaming and relax, no harm would come to her. Ms. Owens relaxed but continued to breathe heavily. Dr. Lyman asked her to close her internal eyes and calm herself. When her breathing settled she asked what she had seen.

She said in a little girl voice. "Big bug!" Julie (It was the first time she used her familiar name.) Julie? What do you see? "A bug climbing up on me."

Dr. Lyman shrugged her shoulders at me. I nodded for her to continue.

At this point Doctor I'm going to quote her words exactly as she spoke them. There is no worry now for you or I over something as trivial as legal liability.

"What does it look like?"

"A huge cockroach…I hate cockroaches!"

"Can you look at it and feel safe?"

"Yes…It's climbing up on me… and its cutting off my nightgown. It's not laying on me it's arched over me…Oh no! The eyes are talking to me…black eyes …big black eyes."

"Are you safe?"

"Yes… it has stuck two stingers into my nose …it hurts!

"You are all right… you are safe!"

Jamie jumped…and howled. Dr. Lyman asked, "What happened?"

"A stinger was inserted in my belly button." Jamie went silent.

Dr. Lyman prodded. "What's happening now?"

"Can't to awful!"

"Please tell me. It's like a movie…nothing can hurt you."

Doctor, I have to tell you that at this point I believed I was mistaken to choose Dr. Lyman. We had embarked on a course that was not going to turn out at all well. Here was the crossroads. If I let it go on we would be stepping into this poor women's Kafkaesque nightmare. This tenebrous landscape was clearly sucking in my associate and I was sure I too was on that same slippery slope. A mixture of terror and curiosity overcame me. Dr. Lyman looked at me with sweat dripping off her face. One drop fell to the ground I watched it fall in slow motion till it hit the carpet.

"It has a penis or something like it. Except it moves like an arm or a tentacle. Its rubbing and tweaking my breasts…it kinda feels good. Now it's down there …I'm having orgasm after orgasm …it's amazing! My ass just got squirted on …(she giggled) It's going up my ass but I'm numb down there now. It's not bad… I would never let my husband do this… ever …too nasty. Maybe it would be okay to let him. (Long pause) It's gone."

Dr. Lyman told her to forget everything. It was just a bad dream. She then told her to remember completely the alien abduction and to be proud of that wonderful and special experience. She then told her to sleep all night and wake refreshed, happy and pleased with all her choices.

I had no way to assimilate or explain what I had heard. Dr. Lyman on the other hand, did. She got up and went to the kitchen. Frantically she tore through the kitchen apparently attempting to make coffee. She stopped and slammed the counter. I had the recording device in my hand. Here is what she said:

" I have been a fool. I thought it was devils or demons …I was seeking the Arcanum like some religious inquisitor. I for the sake of my newfound faith did a volte -face on my training and discipline. I believed myself saved but now I am doomed. Don't you see Abraham there are no demons what we found is infinitely worse."

I was in the dark. I told her what we heard was a delusion …nothing more.

"The UFOs …the abductions …the examinations …the sexual implications… mass sightings…geographical concentrations…cattle mutilations…incubus …aliens, fairies, elves, leprechauns, sirens, brownies, gnomes, on and on through our whole history. It is an archetype based not only in the conscious, but also in the real world as well. Dear Lord, I get it …I get it."

She slumped to the floor and I ran over to her to be of assistance .She just stared at me. I thought she was in shock. My bag was on the chair in the living room. I jolted …I believed I saw something move behind the curtains. I didn't remember if we brought up a dog. Maybe a raccoon had got in when we were out on the porch. I noted an odd smell and immediately dismissed the idea that anything was in the house. I gave Dr. Lyman an injection of a mild sedative. Her eyes cleared and I helped her up. We both sat at the kitchen table.

"Don't you see Doctor? The sting to the neck is a peripheral nerve induction inhibitor. The sting to the foot is a hallucinogenic. The creature is intelligent and just injects the proper compound and the host sees and hears what the creature intends."

I heard the word 'host' and the pieces fell together. Horrified I began to pace in circles saying 'no' over and over.

"Abraham the tentacle is an external birth canal. It's used to stimulate women so that the proper hormones are released in the blood. I believe there is a type for males with a different appendage. The young must be placed in the rectum for a short time then expelled in our feces into the sewer systems. We must live in a symbiotic relationship…we always have. How perfect..."

We both suffered the night.

The following morning we told Ms. Owens, as far as we could tell, her memories were real and, if needed, she could visit an abduction group and talk about her experiences. She thanked us cheerfully. We ate breakfast and drove back to the city.

Two days later, Dr. Lyman and her husband were dead and I was terrified.

I received a letter from Dr. Lyman post marked the day of her demise.

It read:

Dear Dr. Jennings,

Please forgive everything. It was Dr. Daniels intention to ruin you and I was to be an accomplice. As you can see, I know of your, now, unimportant transgression. The impossible has happened yet again. I was visited last night and my fate has been sealed. You are a good man and don't deserve what is about to happen. They told me that they must stay invisible and unknown. We humans have become too numerous, dangerous, irresponsible, and inquisitive. They have a plan to cull us to a more reasonable number. They have done it many times before. Just as they can manufacture dreams they can also manufacture disease. Put your affairs in order. Upon hearing the manner of my death, and the death of my dear husband, don't believe it. I was promised our deaths would be painless and even pleasurable. I still believe in a divine presence and now see how perfect is His plan.

Sincerely,

Jean Lyman

So Dr. Daniels you have won and most assuredly lost.

I spent today putting my things in order. I have a poor cousin in Iowa who doesn't even know I exist, in either persona. She will be rich and will think there are Angels. I hope there are. As I write this, a large headed, skinny, Gray is reading over my shoulder. They allowed this last wish…to write this letter that will only be read by you. They agree that you are the instigator of this affair and revelation and, as such, are most guilty.

I was also allowed to call Jamie Owens. I told her all would be well for her and her husband. I said she would have no more abductions (a promise from the source.) and that in my opinion it was no more than a brain anomaly that occasionally happens to women who think they can do it all. I also said that I didn't rule out; however, the possibility that the UFO encounter was real. I told her my research showed that once the patient gains control once more the visitors seem to become uninterested.  I prescribed more social time, to consider having a family and a short-term anti-depressant. I referred her to another Doctor and wished her well.

The universe is a lot larger than we had thought and more complex than we are able to fathom. I will die peacefully (Another promise). You will read this and you will have a visit from Aliens that very night … you will, no doubt, go mad. But before you die (Badly) you will know I was the instrument of your demise, you arrogant, worthless, pompous ass.

Sincerely,

Dr. Abraham Moses Jennings

End

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