Acacia Crescent E-Book

Cora Buhlert

• Herausgeber: Cora Buhlert
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

1956. In the quiet suburb of Shady Groves, ten-year-old Kenny watches as both his parents are murdered, shot down by a mafia enforcer. And the mob is not inclined to leave any witnesses behind. However, an invasion from outer space may just prove to be one little boy's salvation…

This is a short story of 3500 words or approx. 13 pages in the The Day the Saucers Came… series, but may be read as a standalone.

Leseprobe

Acacia Crescent

by Cora Buhlert

Bremen, Germany

Copyright © 2013 by Cora Buhlert

All rights reserved.

Cover image © PhilCold, Dreamstime

Pegasus Pulp Publications

Mittelstraße 12

28816 Stuhr

Germany

www.pegasus-pulp.com

June 9th, 1956, known all over the world as “the day the saucers came”. Now, for the first time in print, read these sensational eyewitness accounts from people who were there and lived to tell the tale. Prepare to be shocked and horrified, as you read what it was truly like — on the day the saucers came…

A series of first person accounts narrated from the POV of the survivors of a 1950s B-movie type alien invasion.

Acacia Crescent

June 9th, 1956. It was the day my life changed forever, in more than one respect.

I was ten years old and I was practicing my baseball skills on the driveway of our house in a cul-de-sac named Acacia Crescent in the subdivision of Shady Groves, when all of the sudden that car pulled into the driveway. A big black Buick with darkened windows. The car never honked or slowed down, it just drove right up to the house. In fact, if I hadn’t jumped out of the way, it would have run me right over.

For a moment I just stood there — my mouth hanging wide open, the baseball bat clutched to my chest — and watched as a big black Buick came to a halt. I watched the passenger door open, watched a man in a tailored pinstripe suit get out.

I could not see his features, for he was wearing a fedora pulled deep into his face. But then I didn’t need to, for he was tall, square-jawed and broad-shouldered and looked just like the heroes and villains of the crime comics I used to read. In short, he was a figure that promised thrills and excitement, a hint of adventure come to the serene dullness that was Acacia Crescent. Little did I know just how right I was. And how wrong.

The man in the pinstripe suit paid no heed to me. He walked right up to the house and rang the doorbell in his brisk, no nonsense way. In my mind, I imagined him as a cop, a heroic detective come to take statements that would help catch some dastardly evildoer. Though how anybody in Acacia Crescent could have seen anything that might help solve a crime I had no idea. For Acacia Crescent was peaceful like a cemetery. There was no discord here, no fights, neither Communists nor blacks nor Mexicans nor Chinese and certainly no crime. Acacia Crescent was the dullest place in the world.

I dropped my bat and followed the stranger up to our front door. Watched as a rang the bell, watched as he waited, impatiently tapping his foot, encased in a shoe of shiny two-tone leather.

My Mom opened the door, looking very smart in her floral print dress and crisp white apron. In her hand was a dishcloth.

The man in the pinstripe suit nodded at her and tapped his hat and asked for my father. Wordlessly, my Mom pointed towards the backyard, where my Dad was firing up the grill.

I scowled. Why had the stranger asked Mom and not me? I could’ve told him where Dad was just as well.

Mom let the stranger step into the house, which was odd in itself, because Mom had just waxed the floors and she never let anybody in, when she’d waxed the floors. Still, this proved how important this stranger was, for if Dad or I had dared to step onto the freshly waxed floor, there would have been hell to pay.

No, the stranger had to be a detective investigating a big crime like a bank robbery or a kidnapping. Or maybe he was a secret agent hunting down enemy spies and saboteurs? Perhaps crime and treason really did lurk everywhere, even in the claustrophobic idyll that was Acacia Crescent?

My curiosity was now fully aroused, so I sneaked around the side of the house. The brand new air-conditioning unit was humming in the window, droplets of condensation pooling on the ground beneath it.

When I stepped into the backyard, I saw my Dad fussing with the grill. It was summer, barbecue time, and we were planning to have some hamburgers and steaks later on. The grill was new, just like the air-conditioning unit and the TV and the blender and Mom’s washing machine and my bike. We’d gotten a lot of new things in the past few months, because Dad was making good money in his accounting job. And now he’d even get to help with an inquiry into a heinous crime. Maybe there’d even be a reward and a medal pinned onto my Dad’s chest by the mayor himself. Because that would be so cool. All the other kids at school and in the boy scouts would be green with envy.

I hid behind an azalea bush and watched as the man in the pinstripe suit stepped out onto the patio and slid the door shut behind him. My Dad looked up from the grill, started to say something and froze, just plain froze. The glass he’d been holding in his hand, a tumbler of mustard coloured glass that we’d gotten as a premium at the gas station, fell to the floor and shattered into the million pieces on the hard concrete. That was my first hint that something was wrong.