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Rated: E · Short Story · Sci-fi · #1841790
Mom always wanted me to first at something.

"Now Mom," I said, "Don't think that.  I'm not sorry we immigrated to Kliosene."

"But you could have gone so far," Mom responded.  She always thought I'd grow up to be President, at least.

"I'm doing fine," I said, hugging her as I left for the night.  Dad passed away two years ago, so Mom seems lonely some times, but still continues to be active.

My car started up, although it'd been running a little rough lately.  The soil on Kliosene is powdery, so dust works its way into everything, even the normally efficient fuel cell that provides the power.

There was no traffic in Mom's residential area, but I always obey the stop sign at the end of her street.  Before I could move forward, the left front dipped.

"That's strange," I thought out loud.  Inflatables aren't used here, so it couldn't be a flat.  I had a set of Goodyear's wire mesh tires, most common brand on Kliosene.  Reliable.

Dust rose up as I climbed out to investigate.  The left front was intact, but had sunk into the surface.  The road was standard for our colony.  Roads didn't have to be constructed, but were still needed to control traffic flow.  Simple lines were painted on what had always seemed like a firm, if dusty, surface.

But somehow my left front tire had broken though.  The edges around the break looked like a cracked egg shell.

"Hatching or making an omelet?" thinking out loud again.

Suddenly, the hole started to expand with a crackling sound.  Dust geysers rose higher into the atmosphere.  My car was disappearing below the surface.  I stumbled back to escape going in myself.

Then an even more amazing thing happened.  The car's rate of descent slowed, then reversed.  It came level with the surface, then was rolled backwards by the expansion of what looked like a cocoon.  As the car cleared the hole,  the cocoon settled into a pattern of a slight expansion followed by a contraction.

It was breathing.

Answered that question, something was hatching.

The next question was "would I be the first colonist to meet an alien, or the first to be eaten by an alien?"

Turns out there was a third alternative.

The cocoon started to dissolve revealing... what?

I had no idea.  But it was a cute little thing whatever it should be called.  Had these big eyes.  Reminded me of those paintings popular at one time.  Cute puppies with huge sad eyes.

These eyes actually seemed happy to see me.  Then I learned why.  This creature couldn't talk, but it could communicate telepathically.

"Dad?" was the first thought it projected.

So, I'm going down in history after all.  Not as President, but I think Mom will be pleased that it's not as the first colonist to be eaten by an alien.  I'm the first to be mistaken for an alien's parent.

© Copyright 2012 Sailor M (sailor40 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1841790