Rescued From Aliens by Doug Hawley

I know I’m not the first to wish for a do over or a time machine to change what I’ve done.
My fights with wife Betty had become more extreme over little things. Her haircut, me not
taking out the garbage. Nothing physical, but me calling her stupid, she calling me ugly. We
just egged each other on like children. Just to avoid the conflict for awhile, I’d started to drink at
Henry’s outside my insurance agency after work.

Last night I saw the woman who I had started to notice a couple of weeks ago. Whenever I
would look over at her, she’d be smiling at me. This time she came over to me and told me “I
can get you better and cheaper drinks at my place five minutes away.” Big mistake, I followed
her. I’m a big boy; I could have stopped before we got into bed. That was just minutes after I
learned her name was Anne. She might be crazy, but she wasn’t poor. Her house was more of a
mansion, and she had a new pristine Tesla in her driveway.

After sex she started to scare me. “You know that aliens rule the earth. They’ve been around
forever and they head all of the world’s governments and religions.” After letting her ramble on
like that for fifteen minutes, I got out of there as fast as I could, vowing to myself to heal my
relationship with Betty and walk the straight and narrow the rest of my life.

I just drove around for a couple of hours trying to clear my mind and thinking about what I’d tell
Betty. When I did get home there was a police car in my driveway. “We are sorry to inform you
that your wife died in a hit and run. We haven’t found the driver of the car, but we’re working
on it. Come down to the station tomorrow.”

They left, but before I could recover from the news, Anne was at my door saying “We need to
get out of here. Don’t ask questions, just get in the car and I’ll explain. You drive.”

After we had driven south for fifteen minutes she told me “You had to get out of there, I found
out your wife is an alien. I’ve got plenty of money for us to live on.”

“Wait a minute, how did you find out where I live and why do you think that my wife is an
alien?”

“The bartender knew your name, and you can find out about anybody on the internet, but there
was not much information on your wife, a sure sign that she’s alien.”

I suspected that Anne hadn’t researched my wife.

I was hospitalized for three weeks after I drove her car off the road at ninety miles per hour.
Anne didn’t survive. I have huge health, financial and legal problems, but I did it because I
noticed that Anne’s Tesla had a crumpled front end before we left my place.

*Published in Terror House and Down In The Dirt

The author is a little old man who lives with editor Sharon and cat Kitzhaber in the
USA Northwest. After a career in numbers – math teacher and actuary, he retired to volunteer
and write. In the last ten years he has written in most genres and been published in four
continents. South America, Africa, and Antarctica are holdouts.

Website
Blog
Iranian Website (work in progress – interesting story:)