Camielle's Lights

- Camielle's Lights

- Midpoint

Camielle's Lights

By

Y. Correa

A Sci-Fi Short Story

Camielle's Lights

by Y. Correa

Copyright 2014 Y. Correa

Smashwords Edition

Wispy ringlets danced in the sky in a million different colors—some unrecognizable. Soft blue and majestic puffy cotton-balls filled the space behind it. A backdrop of celestial azure with a rainbow of circles aplenty curtaining atop. A single sphere of bright light swayed to and fro above it. A luminescent orb with a life of its own.

Eyes lucidly followed the orb and gazes became hypnotized by the labyrinthine magic of the lights. What was it? Never in written history did anyone ever witness the likes of this, and never would they in years to come. A once in a lifetime event for those lucky enough to see its splendor.

Camielle wasn't paying much mind to the lights like all the others; her mind was fixed on the multitudes' reactions to the unknown. While some were amazed and enamored by the lights, the others watched in fear—the uncharted always caused fear. Such an unusual thing, the human mind, Camielle surmised.

For a girl of such a young age—only having just turned eight—these questions and thoughts would be peculiar. Yet for Camielle, it was nothing short of an everyday thought. She never was much like all the rest. Never quite fit in.

As she watched the splendiferous beams lull in the air, Camielle strolled through the crowd in Central Park, occasionally touching a strangers hand just to see if they would react. No one even so much as noticed her. What, she thought, is so curious about lights in the sky? They're just lights. Furthermore, she pondered on the fact that people should be more concerned about what was causing this marvelous aurora of romping colors. That, in her little mind seemed to be of greater concern.

Was it the end of the world? The Armageddon? Was it some sort of military attack? Was it coming from somewhere else entirely?

What a petty thing, she mused. To be awestricken at some colors in the sky without any real concern as to where they were coming from.

Camielle was a bit of an odd-looking child—extremely pretty, but odd nonetheless. Her hair was two tones of brown; a lighter shade and a darker shade. It was neither curly, nor wavy, but sat somewhere in between the two textures. Stringy actually.

Her skin was a bit paler than most, if you looked close enough, you could see the semblance of greenish tones. Not like the ever-coveted olive green that some Europeans contained, but a pale green, reminiscent of regurgitation. Thankfully, her Caucasian skin masked the subfusc green well.

Her eyes were enormous and brown—matching her hair. Children at school consistently teased her over it. Cow-eyed Cammy, they'd call her. Yet, Camielle being of such a mature mind, ignored them.

She was thin. Thinner than most of the girls in her class. Her arms were long and wiry, as were her legs. Unfortunately for her, the poor girl was ill-proportioned. These were the reasons that she was always the misfit—the outcast.

Once again, these things did not bother her. She was content with being who she was. The world around her was of little to no consequence. The only thing that mattered to her about the group that surrounded her was their psyche. How could a Species so advanced—especially in comparison to all of the other species on earth—be such Neanderthals?

Camielle finally looked up at the transcendent lights in the sky and the orb that commanded them, like a Conductor of an orchestra. She supposed that they were lovely after all. Truly, she'd never seen anything like them. So, content with her analysis of mankind for the day, she too began to bask in the sublime ensemble. For different reasons than most, but enjoyed them despite the contrary.

After admiring the empyrean heavens for some three minutes or so, Camielle moved forward. It was time to find something else to stimulate her cerebrum. A mind like hers was something of a sponge and a glutton. It absorbed everything and craved more. Nothing kept her attention for too long, as everything obtained her engrossment—if that made any sense.

Trotting forward, she searched for her next task. What would it be? The New York Public Library? Books, she loved. The Museum of Natural History? She'd been there too many times to count and had memorized all of its sights—but going again would be doable. Or maybe she'd settle for strolling the streets and people watch. After all, with an event such as this, watching people might be entertaining.

The latter seemed like the best plan of action for the small girl, so trekking through the highly populated and strangely distracted throng, Camielle's focus remained on each person she passed.

One gentleman wore a fedora hat and a trench coat, and underneath his trench coat one could clearly see his nicely pressed high end business suit. A suitcase in one hand, and cell phone not quite on his ear, dangled from the other. The man stared blankly at the heavens, his mouth agape. On the other end of the phone, one could hear the muffled voice of whomever it was that was speaking.

Camielle, tapped his hand. “Sir?”

No answer. “Sir?” she insisted.

“Huh?” He blinked.

“Why are you looking at the sky?” Camielle surmised that there was an obvious answer, and an alternate answer. She's would've preferred his thoughts on the posterior.

The question finally caused the man to react, and fumbling to close his phone, then looking down at Camielle, he replied, “It's pretty obvious, don't you think?”

“No, no,” Camielle shook her head. “Not really.”

“The lights!” he replied, amazed at her response.

“What about them?”

“They're in the sky! That's never happened before! Seriously, little girl?” His question was more astonishment, than concern.

She nodded.

“Look, kid, I don't have time for this! I need to call someone!” Dismissing their conversation altogether, the man marched off in a mad rush.

Ugh, Camielle thought, then proceeded with her venture.

Her adventure was short-lived as everyone that she approached dismissed her entirely. Most of them labeling her as crazy, or “nuttso” as they so eloquently put it.

Mommy always says that regular people cannot understand the mind of a genius, she reminded herself.

At long last, Camielle gave up on her undertaking and opted for a ringside seat to the action. Although, there wasn't much action to be had—just some lights in the sky moving around. Big deal.

Afoot back home to the building in which she lived, she went. Her mother was surely at work, and her father was off on a business trip. So it was just her and her curiosity today.

She imagined her mother watching the news at the office in which she worked. She would surely be as transfixed as all the rest with the happenings. Then she thought of her father who was currently in New England on business—he was probably watching the news too. Definitely, mouth wide open. He was the sort that lost himself in the electronic captivity of the television set. She giggled at her thought.

Not stopping at her floor, but making her way to the roof instead, Camielle thereafter sat on the blue, tattered and weather-worn beach chair that was there waiting for her. From here, she was certain to see the show much better.

Sitting down and laying her head back, she watched and thought—and thought and watched; and, soon after, waned to sleep.

“Ca-mi-elle...” came an unrecognizable robotic voice. “A-wake-n chil-d. You must come with us.”

Camielle’s eyes flickered open, and, upon adjusting to her surroundings, flew open in surprised. She was slightly startled but mostly flabbergasted. She inherently tucked her feet into herself.

“Chil-d, can you hear us?” asked the seemingly automated voice of the creature that sat in front of her. She nodded, words had been lost.

“Good. Good,” nodded the entity. Its oversized, wobbly head seemed to want to roll off of its ridiculously slender neck as it did. “Now come. Fo-llow us.”

Camielle's view widened, and when it did, she saw four others just like this one. They were the spitting image of the little green and grey aliens one would see in those tacky Sci-Fi movies. Five of them.

Finally finding her words, Camielle asked, “Why?”

“Be-cause, you are one of us. You must come now.” Every word had the emphasis and sound of an android.

It was fascinating how the reply alone made all of the sense in the world to the little girl. Period. It was all of the justification that she needed to believe them and follow their lead. Withal, she never really quite fit in. How could it not make sense? Why would she question it?

The alien stretched out his hand, and she reached for his. He grabbed it and she arose, allowing him to lead the way. Camielle lifted her eyes to the sky to take a quick glance—maybe the lights had gone away. To her surprise, they were still there, however, no longer dancing. They were as still as calm waters. All lined up in a horizontal line with the glowing white orb directly in the center.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Home.”

“Where is home?”

“Far from here.”

“So, if I am not from this planet—not a human; then how did I get here and what am I?”

“You were im-plan-ted here eight years a-go in the womb of your hu-man mo-ther. We put you here. It was an ex-per-i-ment. We are from the pla-net called 2-2-4-Z-F-1.”

“What are we?” Camielle insisted.

“We are the first.”

“The first? What does that mean?”

“We came be-fore hu-mans. We are the first.”

“Then where did humans come from?” By this point, the little alien lifted his hand, stretched out his incredibly long finger and pointed to the white luminescent orb that commanded the lineup. The orb, as if telepathically understanding the aliens command, hovered from its location, fluttering through the air, and finally making its appearance in front of the Greys. It was their starship.

Shortly after landing atop of the building, the orb's glow fizzled away, and from it came a sterling silver grandeur. It was the most beautiful space shuttle anyone had ever seen. The door opened. When the door opened, the alien answered, “They come from us. We made them cen-tur-ies ago. Ev-o-lu-tion took care of the rest.”

“Oh, I see.”

A little over a decade passed. Camielle had made her new home with the Greys. They understood her—comprehended her otherworldly mind. It was a great thing. The things they'd taught her were so mammoth that words were not enough to explain their depth. Things were never what they seemed. Life wasn't what earth had made it out to be. There was so much more. Camielle finally felt accepted and at home with the Greys. They were her new family. More than that, she was finally happy.

“Camielle, honey.” A gentle hand shook her shoulder. “Wake up.”

Camielle's eyes weighed heavy, and she could barely open them.

“Come on sweetie. Wake up.”

With lots of effort, Camielle finally opened her eyes. What an odd thing. What a peculiar sensation. Just a few seconds ago she was all grown up and living with the Greys. Now, she was back on the rooftop of her building, still in the tattered beach chair.

“Come on, baby. It's dinner time.”

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Camielle scratched her throat. “Umm. Nothing.”

“Must've been quite the dream you head. You were talking in your sleep.”

“I was?”

“Yup. What were you dreaming about?”

“Aliens.”

“Wow! Sounds exciting.”

“It was.”

Leading Camielle back to their apartment, her mother prompted Camielle to tell her all about the dream she'd had.

“Ca-mie-lle? Wake up. Wake up.” Came the mechanical voice of her adoptive father, the Grey that took her home with him.

“What?” was Camielle's lethargic reply. She'd not fully awoken just yet. Then with a jump, she was up. “Oh, wow, Poppa Grey, I was dreaming that I was a little girl again. That I was back with my mother. What a crazy dream. It felt so real.”

“Mem-o-ries can be a pow-er-ful thing,” replied Poppa Grey. “It is not of an ab-nor-mal na-ture. It is the hu-man in you.”

Camielle nodded her reply. That made complete sense. What she wouldn't give to be one hundred percent grey. However, in all truth, it was the human in her that made her unique. For that she was grateful.

Taking Poppa Grey's hand, Camielle and he walked off to their day's functions.

Inside of the glass canister that contained the month-old fetus of the unborn child, monitors and wires of all kinds dangled from it—the fetus pulsed with life. It was real. It was alive.

The human woman strapped to the brilliant white gurney had no idea what was going on around her. The anesthetic had her completely unconscious. Never would she know what had happened this very day. As far as she would know, this child would be the product of her marriage.

Connected to one of the monitors on the fetus, was a screen. The screen played with vivid life.

“So, this will be the life of this child?” asked the mechanized voice of Poppa Grey.

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