Not-stone

Lalo was always too curious for his own good. He spent all his days roaming the woods that surrounded his shack, which he shared with his mama and uncle; even though they repeatedly scolded him for it. They had a fear of the outside and were content to stay within eyesight of their home, lazing about and drinking. Lalo would never be like that.

He loved to explore, loved trampling dead leaves, and ripping bark from the trunks of fallen trees. Occasionally, Lalo would find a beetle or worm underneath the bark and would howl at the sky before devouring it. At other times, Lalo visited the brook that ran through the woods, although he never knew where it went. He would sit on the bank and let the crystal-clear water run over his bare feet while he looked at the sky, which was always sunny and warm. If the trout were ever stupid enough to come near him, Lalo would spear them with a sharpened stick he kept stashed near the brook. Those days he would return home to an extra scolding, because we don’t do things like the tater-diks. We didn’t kill when food was provided to us.

Uncle could never give a straight answer on what a tater-dik was, but oh how he hated them. He often drunkenly ranted many nights, blaming tater-diks for the force-fields or the alien invasion. There was one—Lalo couldn’t remember the name but thought he was called poutine—that Uncle especially blamed, because he sent the first bomb off. Then the aliens came, placing the remaining humans behind force-fields meant to protect them from the harsh conditions of our environment. Lalo couldn’t agree or disagree; all this happened when Lalo was just a child. Mama and Uncle said we survived because we lived so far in the mountains, some place they called Appalachia.

The force-fields didn’t both Lalo. Sure, the aliens looked odd. Some were tall, as tall as the trees in the woods, while others were smaller, like Lalo. They had translucent skin—and you could see their insides from the outside—heads like inflated balloons, and spider-leg fingers. Lalo couldn’t tell if they were nice or mean. They would just appear outside of the force-field staring at him with inky black eyes. The taller ones would point while the shorter ones shoved their balloons to the force-field and jumped up and down. Lalo would jump up and down with them and wave his arms when these kinds of aliens visited. Sometimes they would curl spider-leg fingers into a ball and pound against the force-field, which always made Lalo scramble to hide behind the nearest tree.

There was only one alien who ever visited Lalo, Uncle, and Mama at their home. Once every few days this alien, Uncle called him Keeper, would bring them food to cook, drinks for Uncle and Mama, and candy for Lalo. The days Keeper visited were Lalo’s favorite; whenever he heard a screech and click in the distance, he would rush back home.

One day, when Keeper visited, Lalo decided he would follow him back to wherever he came from so he could find the source of the candy and enjoy it daily instead of every few days. After receiving his obligatory candy, Lalo hid behind his small shack and tracked Keeper’s movements as they left. The game was on. Between foliage cracking under bare-feet and ensuring that he remained far enough so Keeper wouldn’t notice him, Lalo struggled to keep up. Keeper was fast, their long legs able to make two strides in the same time Lalo had made one, but the promise of unlimited candy spurred him forward.

Keeper paused in the middle of a clearing and glanced around. Did they know Lalo was near? It wasn’t against the rules to follow; still he shrunk into the shadow of a tree, waiting for Keeper to continue. But Keeper didn’t, instead they pushed poked at the air a few times with a thin finger and the world melted before Lalo’s eyes. A gray door appeared; it looked like stone but wasn’t worn or weathered like one. The not-stone door raised, revealing a bright, long-room, that Keeper entered. It was now, or never.

Lalo rushed forward and slipped into the long-room as his world was cut off behind him. There was no going back now. The sun inside the long-room blinded him, but it wasn’t warm; and the floor here felt odd, cold and smooth, opposite of the warm jagged ground he was accustomed to walking on. Unease settled within Lalo, reminding him of the terrible stories Uncle would tell about the old world.

Lalo crept forward, testing each step before committing, as if the slick ground could give away at any moment. The long-room opened up into a more common length room that was filled with bright, square suns, and multi-colored stars. It was the most terrifyingly beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Investigating the square-suns, he realized that it was a picture of his home and Uncle was laying in front of it, napping. He must be in the sun itself, or maybe this is where the aliens came to look at Lalo. Pressing his hand on the picture, Lalo tried to get Uncle’s attention but he wouldn’t wake; he tried slapping the picture and pounding like the short aliens, with no luck. He was doomed, trapped on the outside of his home, he no longer wanted to be here. So he screamed. He screamed for Keeper, screamed for safety even if it came with punishment for breaking rules.

Keeper eventually came, but didn’t punish him. They just comforted Lalo and helped him back into the safety of his world. As soon as he crossed back onto warm ground breathing became easier. But Keeper didn’t wait to check on Lalo, they just gave him another piece of candy, which Lalo snatched with appreciation and shoved into his mouth. Then Lalo watch the not-stone door sink once more. Inch…by…inch…