The silvern light of the moon in its first quarter phase lay glistening upon the waves as the Sally Anne, a small off shore fishing boat that had been lobster potting just off the beaches of Lundy island, chugged slowly back to Ilfracombe Harbour.
Kevin Williams, the owner of the boat and its captain, sat in the small wheelhouse smoking an Old Holborn roll up and listening to Elvis on the tape recorder he had sellotaped to the back of his seat. He had been a fisherman all of his life, having left school in 1954 at fourteen years of age and becoming a crewman on his uncles boat. Fishing was all he knew and the sea was in his veins as his wife used to say. Every day without fail he would take the boat out from Ilfracome Harbour and check and lay his lobster pots. The income he made from selling the his catch to the local restaurants was enough to keep the boat running and that was all he wanted from life. The wind was light and cold and coming from the west, with just a few pale wispy clouds visible to the east. The constellations of Cancer and Leo were now beginning to replace the winter stars and the individual stars that formed each of the constellations were shining as polished little diamonds bright against the black velvet of the night. Outside the boat in all directions no other ships could be seen. Overhead and slightly to the north he could see a satellite slipping soundlessly across the sky, a lonely dot of man made light adrift amidst the majestic celestial spectacle of the stars and planet.
Along the shoreline the lights of houses and cottages that nestled against the dunes and beaches were beginning to blink out one by one as their tired occupants were heading off to bed. He looked again at his watch and saw that it was just after midnight. The wife would be in bed by now, he thought. Time for a beer. The ebb tide would delay his return to the harbour a little bit but he estimated that he would be back home in about an hour or so. That meant he could knock back two beers before he berthed the boat and headed off to bed. He sat back, reached over to the small fridge underneath the wheel and pulled out a can of Carlsberg lager. He pulled the ring pull back, then pointed the can away from his face as it hissed and discharged a few bubbles and spits of liquid. He then put the can to his lips and sipped away the froth from the edge of the can. and sighed as cold the beer bubbles burst on his tongue and flooded his mouth with flavour.
The waves were lapping gently against the side of the boat, rocking it left and right as he drifted slowly back to port and he yawned loudly as he began to relax with his can. The tape recorder was blaring out his favourite Elvis track, Hound Dog, when the lights on the boat began to dim. For a second as the power from the engine dipped, Elvis developed a slur and all the lights on the boat flickered. He stood up from his seat and walked out from under the small roof of the wheelhouse. The engine seemed to be fine now though. He shrugged and turned to go back towards his seat when the engine went totally dead, the lights flickered out and Elvis went totally silent.
The boat lay dead in the water. As the bulbs began to dim as the last of the heat went from the filaments the darkness around the boat became absolute. Apart from a sprinkling of distant glimmering lights along the shoreline and the light from the moon, he was in total blackness. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his torch he kept in his inner pocket and flicked the switch forward. Nothing. Bloody thing. He walked into the wheelhouse and sat down. He turned the ignition switch on and off a couple of times but the main batteries of the boat seemed dead. The key clunked, but the engine and starter motor were both silent.
Out in the distance of the Bristol Channel he could discern a glow on the horizon. Through the small glass window in the wheelhouse he could see that the light was definitely growing brighter. Christ, he thought, I hope that aint another boat coming this way. The last thing that he needed was a bloody collision with another boat heading for Ilfracombe.
He reached up and pulled down the radio handset from its cradle, depressed the transmit button and shouted into the handset, “ Hello, Hello - anyone there - over “. No response. Not even a crackle of radio static emanated from the radio set to suggest any sort of signal was being transmitted to the coastguard in Ilfracombe. As he replaced the handset he noticed that the glow which had been coming through the window had moved closer and was also considerably brighter.
It appeared to be at an angle of about thirty degrees above the horizon and rising. He walked out of the wheelhouse out onto the main deck area and stared into the darkness towards the light as it grew in intensity.
Whatever it was, it was definitely getting closer to the boat. Within a few moments the glow issued by the object had begun to paint his shadow across the deck of the boat and onto the waves. The light itself was a reddish hue with a blue silver sheen around the edges. Strange, he had never seen a boat give this sort of glow off it. This wasn’t the usual sort of maritime lighting used on boats in the area. He began to feel slightly nervous now. The light was growing brighter in intensity every second and also rising higher in relation to the horizon itself. A whistling sound began to impose itself upon the silence, like the high pitched whine of a drill that had hit resistance and which grew louder with every passing second.
He noticed that the stars in the sky above the boat were slowly vanishing from view, as though a black blanket were being pulled across the sky and hiding the them beneath it.
Suddenly a bolt of intense red light appeared out of the darkness about two feet from the right hand side of the boat. It came down in a straight line like a laser beam from high in the air immediately above the boat. Kevin threw his hands across his face and screamed with pain as the glow burst into his eyes instantly blinding him. Through his closed eyelids and the gaps between his interlaced fingers he could still see the light flickering across the boat, over the wheelhouse and over the engine at the stern. It seemed to be searching for something he thought.
After a second or two adjusting to the sudden illumination he opened his eyes, removed his hands from his face and gazed out at the back of the boat. The humming was now so loud it was like a swarm of bees were surrounding the boat. The intense laser light that had blinded him a few moments ago, suddenly flicked off and vanished.
Kevin stepped gingerly out of the wheelhouse and looked straight up above the boat.
Stationary in the air about ten feet above the wheelhouse was a massive black triangular metallic object. Almost as large as a Boeing 747 jumbo jet it was hovering, absolutely still, so close he felt he could reach out and touch the thing. The exterior of the craft appeared to be made of a smooth metallic type substance that glistened as though oiled, though no seams or rivets could be seen at all anywhere on its surface. It looked to him as though it were a ceramic type material, as no part of the object appeared to be bolted to any other part of the object. It was totally smooth and appeared to be made of a single piece of material. At the rear of the object and to the left, approximately 200 feet away, a bright blue light glowed underneath the object illuminating the waves beneath it. On the other side of the object on the right hand side, also about 200 feet away, another bright blue light glowed, throwing blue beams onto the crest of the waves. About ten feet away towards the prow of his boat and directly in front of him a red light appeared to be pulsating and glowing deep within the metal skin of the craft, as though the metal itself were somehow illuminated from within. The red light was shining through the metal as though the material of the object was translucent.
He could feel himself shaking with fear as the object began to move forwards slowly over the boat.
He felt terrified that the object, which must have weighed hundreds of tons, would suddenly fall down upon him and crush him and the boat with its weight. With no obvious source of power, he could not understand how the craft was able to stay motionless in the air. Every now and then the red light near to the boat would issue from the surface of the object and then plunge straight down into the dark waters beneath it, the light penetrating down to the sea bed about twenty five feet below. The object and the light seemed to be searching for something in the water or on the sea bed for as the craft moved forwards the light slipped to and forth beneath it with an almost surgical efficiency, sweeping to and fro in order to cover every inch of the sea bed. Within half a minute or so the entire mass of the object had passed over the boat and was now moving slowly towards the shore. Once it had moved totally over the boat the radio began to crackle and the lights on the boat began to flicker on for a moment or two and then fade away.
Kevin stood on the deck of the boat and watched the object moving slowly away. Elvis suddenly began to sing’ And you aint no friend of mine’ from the tape recorder and the engine on the boat spluttered back into life. He almost fell over the side with fright at the tape recorder coming on. Christ, he thought, almost Elvis almost gave him a bloody heart attack. He ran back into the wheelhouse, flicked on the main boat light and directed it towards the craft. It was now over a hundred feet away moving in complete silence towards the beach. He grabbed the radio and keyed the mike. Silence. He pressed the mike again and screamed into it, “ Ilfracombe are you there come in”. Silence. Though the lights had come back on the boat, it appeared the object was still blocking the radio signal.
He stood in the wheelhouse and watched the laser lights from the craft flickering back and forth as the object moved slowly into the distance. With trembling hands he reached into the pocket of his combat trousers, pulled out his baccy tin and quickly rolled another cigarette then lit it with a match. His fingers trembled and most of the tobacco he had stuffed into the dog eared roll up spilled the floor. A few strands of the tobacco managed to stay alight as he applied the match and this allowed him to draw a thin cloud of smoke deep into his lungs. For the first time in his whole life he felt afraid of being out on the water. He pushed the throttle handle down and the engine throbbed as it surged forward. The object was now just a sheet of darkness that was darker than the sky around it, visible in the distance only because it blocked out the stars above it. The boat began to push its pointed snout through the low waves, furrowing its way forward and he gunned the engine to its maximum speed and headed straight towards Ilfracombe harbour.
The radio crackled and the voice of mike in the coastguard office at Ilfracombe burst out of the speaker, “ Come in Sally Anne, are you there over “.
Kevin took the handset off the cradle of the radio and keyed the microphone, he coughed and tried to calm the fear he knew was in his voice, “ Sally Anne here over”. The voice on the other end of the radio replied, “ Hi Kev, we got a garbled message from you about ten minutes ago - are you o.k over “.
He looked back out across the waters. The object had now vanished out of sight overland. What should he say. He thought of what the lads in the pub would say if he said anything about this. If he reported seeing a UFO they would rip the piss out of him forever. He pressed the microphone, “ Yeah sorry mark - the engine cut out and I thought I might need a tow - everything o.k. now over “.
“ O.K mate “, the coastguard officer replied, “ If you need any help just let us know over and out “.
Kevin put the handset back and gazed towards the shore. He shivered, though whether with cold or fear he was no longer sure.
6 comments:
Learn to use commas.
Lee, your chapters have been excellent. And for what it’s worth, the only observation I can make is that whilst your descriptions are totally captivating and engrossing I am left with a feeling that the story proceeds too slowly… now I can’t suggest a solution to this feeling or even articulate it very well… but as I mentioned previously I have read lot of heroic fantasy and the formula (for want of a better word) seems to be that each chapter is subdivided to expand diverse parts of the plot, instead of each single chapter being devoted to a single theme. This perhaps creates a greater a sense of momentum… not that I imagine it is particularly easy to achieve. Anyways, that’s my two penneth.
By the way, I must say I respect you for making your stories public like this… it shows a great degree of openness to criticism that I suspect few people are capable of… myself included.
I would like to echo the sentiments of Andastre above and commend you for publicisng your draft work. Too few people these dys, including many public and politcal figures, seem averse to any form of criticism. You have th guts to open yourself up to potential ridicule at one end and to constructive criticism at the other. It takes a strong individual who is not afraid of ther weaknesses to do so. I commend you.
Extremely well-written piece. The story was both captivating an eciting. It is as good - if not better - than existing UFO fiction that has already been written, including works by both former civil servants who were part of the MOD's 'UFO Department'. Both Ralph Noyes and Nick Pope went on to write UFO novels and I can say from experience that your work to date equals - and in some cases exceeds - those works.
Keep it up.
Your descriptive work is extremely good and your pace i very encourging.
I was quite enthralled by chpters one and two.
I have checked out some of your factual refernces (which give the story both credibility and gravitas) and they are sound (apart from the error already pointedout about your misnaming of the SBs).
Your choice of Ilfracombe is clever as it is both a popular tourist desination and a commercial fishing port (and lobsr fihsing is indeed a commercial an private activity!).
There are a few bad cases of wrong sentences and poor grammar eg para 3, where the fishermn taks a drink "...an sghed as cold he ber bubbles...". That should perhaps be "...and sighed as the cold beer bubbles burst on his tongue...".
I am not too sure about the way that you have written the fisherman's thoughts though eg para 6, "Christ, he thought...". It would be far better and les distracting to quote his thoughts as if he were talking to himlef, or to paraphrase his thoughts egHe thought to himself that he hoped that anoter boat was oming his way. Or alternatively use quotation marks instead.
I thought that your descriptions of the fishermn's encounter with the UFO were excellent, really captivating. They are far better than most of the dscriptions that I have read in most novels about UFOs. They have bee written as if you were witness to them yourself and are so vivid, using obscure detail and things that on would not normally mention, that it takes the reader to the scene of he incident itself.
The way the craft slowly obscured the stars, the smoothness of the craft's exterior,its almost ceramic nature, its oil-like appeararance as no sems or rivets, and the way the light illuminated the sea as if earching the depths, are all told very well indeed.
The way that the witness felt that the craft coul crush him if it fell on him are fine details that only a witness could describe as observations and fears like that are realistic and would ente the mind of a witness.
This chapter really works.
I agree with the above comments, in particular Mr Potter's observation re use of quote marks. Again, it breaks up the long prose passages.
Re: the craft, well, for what it's worth, this is what a lady publisher in the US sent me a couple of years back. Unlike the boat in your C3, their car engine didn't stall (they often do) but note the reference to the power station nearby.
UFOs like power plants, among other things, including water reservoirs, mineral deposits and travelling blood banks.
You might be able to use some of that, e.g. w.r.t cattle mutilations, say, as a lead-up chapter.
My contact's narrative is as follows. I trust her as a true witness.
I've highlighted the shape of the craft.
It was back in October, 1986. My husband, his mother and I were coming back from his brother's girlfriend's house in Skyland, North Carolina, and I had just turned east/north onto a major highway, Route 26, heading toward Asheville. I still smoked then (oh, how I miss it!) and my window was open about an inch or so. It was about 10 pm on a week night, and the traffic was light. To the right of the highway, and just south of our on-ramp, was a power plant, with three huge orange and white striped smoke stacks. Immediately ahead of us was an overpass for the Blue Ridge Parkway, this overpass happened to be extra, extra tall, over 80 feet at a guess.
Well, I had turned onto the highway, heading north, when I saw three tremendously bright lights, grouped together, on my left above the tree line. I said out loud, "When did they put a stadium there?" No sooner had the words passed my lips when the lights turned into a huge triangular craft directly before and above us. It was so close that both my husband and I had to lean forward to see it all. I could see the understructure clearly. There were protruding sections, receding sections (I really am at a loss to describe it) and the three bright lights at the points.
My window was open but the craft didn't make a sound! It just hovered for a few moments. It was so wide! The roadway was two lanes each way, plus a very wide median (Artie guessed about 40-60 feet), and the craft covered it all plus the swale and a few trees to each side. I was hanging onto the steering wheel, head tilted, chin way up and my eyes riveted on it, yelling "WHAT IS THAT!?" Artie was shouting right back at me, "WHAT IS THAT?!" We repeated ourselves a few more times before it started to move off, south - directly over and to the rear of us. Artie scooted down in his seat, staring out the back window, trying to see it, but I had a little, low-to-the-ground Mitsubishi Eclipse at the time and it was hard for him to find a good position. His mother, in the meantime, just tilted her head back and could see clearly through the hatchback window.
Meanwhile, I couldn't take my foot off the gas pedal and was still going north at about 50 MPH. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw it pass above the extremely tall overpass we had driven under a minute before. The craft lit up the high roadway, and its own understructure, with a beautiful, bright golden glow. It headed off toward the power plant and that was the last I saw of it. I wasn't able to step on the brake yet, and still wasn't for another 5 miles! I wanted to swing back, but his mother was having a fit and wouldn't let me.
I was so revved up, I went home and created an Action file (sort of like Power Point) that showed the events clearly...
Whenever I hear a skeptic say 'There are no flying saucers!' I just smile. I know what I saw and no one can EVER change my mind...
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