Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day

by Ben Loory

Just then the TV notices that people are complaining.

  We don’t like opera! they are saying. Why can’t you show us some hockey games?

  Or what about a love story? another person says. Or maybe something about the army? Where stuff blows up? Or a show about aliens, or teenagers and fancy cars?

  But this is all that! the TV says. This is all of that and more! Don’t you see—don’t you feel—don’t you understand the beauty here?

  But the people just turn away.

  Call us when you’ve got something better, they say.

  And they go back to their homes and close the doors.

  What do I do now? the TV says.

  It’s standing alone in the square.

  I guess I could go back to the junkyard, it thinks.

  But it really doesn’t want to do that.

  The TV thinks of the townspeople around, all tucked up in their little homes. It thinks of their TVs—they certainly have them—showing them all those dumb shows.

  Somewhere in the world, the TV thinks, there’s got to be someone who cares. Someone who’s interested in quality programming, who cares about a TV who cares.

  So the TV unplugs itself and looks off down the road, peers way off into the distance. It’s a long road—a dark road—and the TV’s never been on it. It has no idea where it goes.

  But then the strings start in, and the horns enter brightly, and the curtain rises from the floor.

  If you’re going through Hell, a voice starts to sing, keep going!

  And the TV steps forward.

  DEATH AND THE FRUITS OF THE TREE

  A MAN WAS WALKING DOWN A LONG, LONG ROAD, WHEN he saw a figure approaching from the distance. The man kept going, wondering who it was, when suddenly he realized—it was Death.

  Shit, said the man.

  He turned and looked around. There was a tree nearby—one with lots of leaves. So the man ran to it and climbed up in the branches and hid among the fruits, peering out.

  After a while, he saw Death coming down the road.

  He held very still and tried not to breathe.

  Keep going, he thought. Keep going! Keep going!

  But Death didn’t obey.

  Death stopped.

  The man felt his heart constrict as Death turned to the tree. He felt the blood freeze in his veins as Death looked up. Somehow he knew that—despite all the leaves—Death could see him there, in his hiding place.

  How? thought the man. How—if he can’t see me—how does he know that I’m here?

  And then the man realized that in the grip of fear, his hands were shaking and they were shaking the tree.

  Oh God, thought the man, I have to make them stop.

  He gripped the branches as tightly as he could. But the more he tried to hold them still, the more they shook and shook.

  And the man began to despair.

  And in the road, Death smiled.

  And right then it happened—the worst possible thing. One of the fruits detached from the tree. The man’s shaking had loosened it, and loosened it, and loosened it, and now it broke free, and it fell.

  And Death saw the fruit fall, and Death came closer, until he stood at the foot of the tree. And he turned his head and looked up, through the branches and the leaves, until he saw the man and the man saw him.

  And Death smiled, and reached down, and picked up the fallen fruit, and he opened his mouth and took a bite.

  Yes, said Death, in that voice that Death has, the unripe fruits are best, I always say.

  Panic seized the man. The end—he knew—was near. When Death finished the fruit, he would be next.

  Think! thought the man. Think! Think! Think!

  But he couldn’t think of a single thing to do.

  And then, from somewhere on the other side of panic, an idea suddenly came to the man.

  It might work, he thought, it really just might work.

  And purposely he began to shake the tree.

  At first, his efforts had no effect, but the man did not give up. He shook the tree with all the strength he had. He shook the tree with everything, his entire being. And the little fruits broke free from the tree, and rained down hard on Death.

  Damn you, Death! Die, die, die! yelled the man, as the fruits smashed against Death’s head and face and neck.

  And then—in one sudden snap—the other fruits all broke free.

  And they came down like an avalanche, and buried Death beneath them.

  At first, in the aftermath, there was only silence. And then, in the silence, the man looked back. And suddenly he realized that during the rain of fruit, Death had simply laughed and laughed and laughed.

  The man stayed in the tree for quite some time, until he was sure it was safe. And then, when he climbed down—very, very slowly—he stood looking at the great mound of fruit.

  He tapped it lightly with one foot, and the fruits all rolled aside.

  And there, beneath, there was no Death.

  Nothing. No body—not a thing.

  Well, all right, said the man. I guess that settles that.

  And he turned and hit the road again.

  Not long thereafter, the man came to a hill. When he got to the top, he looked down. And there in the valley below, he saw a figure coming toward him.

  A man, the man thought, just a little man.

  And at that very moment, the little man looked up. He saw the man seeing him and he froze. He turned and looked around—all around, panic-stricken—and he saw a nearby tree and he ran.

  And the man on the hilltop smiled and watched as the little man started to climb.

  You think you can hide? said the man. From me?

  And he walked into the valley to see.

  II

  UFO: A LOVE STORY

  THE BOY AND THE GIRL LIVE IN A SMALL TOWN. THEY have been dating for years. Neither has ever dated anyone else.

  Neither has ever wanted to, either.

  One night the two are parked down by the lake, when something comes floating in over the water.

  The something is round, pulsing, and bright.

  It hovers right over their car.

  Stay here, says the boy. I’ll be right back.

  He starts to open the door.

  No! says the girl, grabbing his arm.

  I have to check it out, says the boy.

  The boy stands by the car, staring up at the light. He shades his eyes with one hand.

  He wants to speak, but can’t think what to say.

  Then the thing moves away and is gone.

  What was that? says the girl, getting out of the car.

  She walks around and stands by the boy. He reaches out and holds her, then shakes his head.

  No one’s going to believe this, he says.

  The boy tells the town—he tells everybody in it. He tells absolutely every single person. He tells them all about the UFO—how it looked, how it sounded, how it flew. He tells them exactly where he and the girl saw it, when they saw it, and from what angle.

  And the girl stands beside him the entire time, and nods and agrees and smiles.

  And yet, not one person in the town believes even a word of their story.

  Aren’t you a little old for this? they say.

  We thought better of you, they tell the girl.

  How come you looked like that? the boy says in the car, later on.

  Like what? says the girl.

  Like you were lying, says the boy. Like you didn’t believe it.

  Well, says the girl. Maybe we were wrong.

  The boy drives her home.

  They sit outside her house.

  The girl gets out.

  He drives on.

  A few days later, the invasion begins.

  The UFOs are everywhere—every night. One by one, the townspeople see them. One by one, their eyes open wide.

  The saucers come in on antigravity beams, flashing their high-energy lights, making the weirdest woo-woowoo noises, and emitting strange m
ulticolored fogs.

  Every now and then a tree catches fire and burns all the way to the ground.

  It’s an epidemic! says the doctor.

  It’s an emergency! says the mayor.

  It’s those crazy kids, say the spinsters on Grant Street.

  And the spinsters are, of course, correct. Only, it’s not kids—it’s just the boy. He’s sunk all his money, all his resources and efforts, into just this one thing. He’s up half the night designing model spaceships, and the other half sneaking around town, sitting on rooftops and dangling his saucers down in front of people’s windows with a fishing pole.

  And strangely enough, everyone’s buying it! One after another, then the next! Pretty soon there’ll be no one left in town who hasn’t seen a UFO.

  And those very people who laughed and scowled when the boy and the girl told their story are now going around swearing up and down that they’ve seen Martians out on their front lawn.

  And one day on the street, the mayor comes up and puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  Son, he says, I have something to tell you. We may have been wrong about you.

  The girl, in the meantime, hasn’t seen much of the boy. He hasn’t been calling her back. He hasn’t been coming to pick her up from work.

  In fact, she hasn’t seen him at all.

  And so she walks home, all by herself, late at night through the streets of the town. And she stands staring into the dark window of the travel agency, looking at the posters on the walls.

  Rome. Paris. New York City. The pyramids. Ayers Rock.

  So many wonderful places to be.

  And look at where she is.

  And then, one night, the girl catches the boy. She’s sitting in his room when he comes home. He’s holding a spaceship in one hand. The other holds a flashlight and a megaphone.

  It’s you? says the girl. You’re the invasion?

  I was going to tell you, says the boy.

  The girl sits and stares at him for a long moment.

  Come away with me, she says.

  The girl puts her things into the car.

  I’ll follow you in a while, the boy says. I just have to finish what I’m doing here, is all.

  Whatever you say, says the girl.

  Weeks go by. The invasion intensifies. TV crews start to come around. Local stations first, then regional affiliates. Big vans with generators arrive.

  The boy has a map up on his wall that’s marked with circles and pins. Circles are for the people he hasn’t yet fooled.

  He plans to put all the pins in.

  In the city, the girl gets a job in a diner. It’s nothing special, but it pays the bills. On the days she has off, she goes out and explores.

  There’s a whole city out there for her.

  Sometimes at night, the girl lies in bed and watches the headlights on the ceiling. She listens to the engines of the cars outside, idling at the streetlights, waiting.

  The girl feels like she’s waiting too—but she doesn’t know what for. She only hopes that it’ll come soon.

  And then one day it walks through the door.

  ▫ It comes at work. In the shape of a man. He smiles and she smiles back.

  They start to go out. He takes her around town.

  It turns out he has a private jet.

  The man takes the girl to visit Paris and Rome. They go to Berlin and Prague. They fly down to Thailand and then to Australia. They go to see Ayers Rock.

  Sure, there are nights when the girl cannot sleep for thinking about the boy. Nights when she wishes he were beside her, when she can almost feel his arms around her.

  But when she turns, the boy is not there, and she remembers he stayed in the town.

  Those are the nights when the girl cries for hours.

  In the morning, she pretends she’s fine.

  And then one day, the girl buys a dress and starts planning to walk down an aisle. She stands before the mirror, looks herself up and down.

  This is what you want, she tells herself.

  That night the boy has a terrible dream. In his dream, he sees the girl. She’s flying away in a plane with a man.

  The dream seems very real.

  The boy tries to call the girl but he finds her number’s been disconnected. He doesn’t have her address. He doesn’t know where she is.

  He has no way to get in touch with her.

  The boy sits and stares. Then he goes downtown, to the junkyard, and starts poking around.

  A pile of parts begins to form.

  The boy’s there for quite some time.

  On the day of the wedding, in the back room of the church, everything is very quiet. A makeup artist is doing the girl’s eyes. A TV is tuned to the shopping network.

  Out in the church, all the people are waiting, lined up in the pews.

  Suddenly, a man runs in.

  Aliens are attacking! he yells.

  Sure enough, in the faraway town, a real UFO is in the air. Its laser guns are zapping the town.

  Real buildings are falling down.

  Back in the city, all the wedding guests are piled together in the room watching the coverage.

  That’s right, says the anchorman, aliens are real! And what’s more, they’re out to get us!

  The army rolls into the town with their tanks.

  TV cameras are everywhere.

  And suddenly the saucer turns and dives and slams into the door of town hall.

  For a while, there is silence as the townspeople gather around the grounded saucer.

  Back in the church, everything is still.

  Then a door in the UFO opens.

  The girl’s eyes widen as a shadowy figure emerges and comes down the ramp.

  What’s this? says the reporter. It’s a human being!

  Oh! the girl says.

  It’s the boy.

  Why did you do it? reporters are yelling. Why would you attack your own town?

  Is that thing on? the boy says to the camera.

  You bet your life, says the cameraman.

  I did it for this moment, the boy says to the world. I did it to get someone’s attention. There’s someone out there I have to find. Someone I have to get in touch with.

  If you’re out there, he says, and I hope you are, I just want to say I was wrong. I spent my whole life trying to fit in. When I should have been with you, getting out.

  And there’s something else, the boy continues, now moving closer to the camera. There’s something I want everyone to know.

  A second later, the entire world gives one collective gasp.

  The girl is running from the church to her car. The train of her dress trails behind her. She’s holding her bouquet in one hand.

  She throws it back over her shoulder.

  We don’t understand! the announcer is saying. We don’t understand what we just saw! We don’t understand what on earth is happening! We don’t know what’s real anymore!

  The girl roars down the main street into town.

  Where is he? she screams out the window.

  He? comes the answer. In the jail!

  The girl squeals into the municipal parking lot.

  Who are you? all the reporters yell.

  You can’t go in there! the guards say.

  But the girl doesn’t answer, just moves into the jail, past security down toward the holding cells.

  All around her, lights are flashing and sirens are going off. Doors are opening before her as she goes.

  The jail is starting to fall apart.

  The girl moves down the line of cells.

  Where are you? she yells. I’m here!

  At the end! a familiar voice calls out.

  The girl walks the last few yards.

  And—as she goes—she feels something strange. A prickling on the top of her head. She reaches up tentatively, and then she smiles. She’s found the two antennae growing there.

  Oh, look, says the boy, you’ve got them too.

  I do,
smiles the girl, same as you!

  And they look at each other in their own true forms.

  It was always just the two of us, says the girl.

  And now the bars of the cell are collapsing, and the floor is cracking apart. And the boy and the girl come together and kiss, and fall into each other’s arms.

  And meanwhile—outside, in the parking lot—the whole town looks up, as the jail crumbles away and something huge rises up from beneath with the boy and girl on top of it.

  Oh look, people say, it’s a real spaceship!

  And the boy and girl smile down.

  And everyone waves and dances and cheers, while the ship blasts away from the town.

  THE HAT

  THE YOUNG MAN HAS NEVER BEEN AFRAID OF HATS before. In fact, he’s recently found himself admiring them. The hats on the heads of the men in this town have actually seemed to him quite marvelous.

  So it is strange that he should now be so frightened—so incredibly frightened—of this one.

  Granted, this hat’s just appeared on the table, while the young man’s attention was turned to the dancers on the stage. And granted, it is a strange hat, a kind he hasn’t seen before. But even so, there’s something else—something he can’t place.

  The young man sits and sits and stares at the hat.