Chapter 8: Convincing Bobby

The house was quieter now, with just the sound of the occasional creak in the old wooden floorboards and the murmur of voices from the next room. Andy’s parents were still gone, but that wasn’t what had me feeling uneasy. It was the pull—the strange gut feeling telling me I had to leave.

I stared out the window, looking out at the field beyond the house, where the two-track trail began to fade into the trees. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard, and something about the way the light hit the woods made it feel like it was calling me.

“Why do we have to leave, though?” Bobby’s voice broke into my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

I looked at him, trying to find the right words. “I just... I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I feel like... like I need to go. Like something’s out there, and we have to find it.”

He stared at me, his arms crossed over his chest, a skeptical look on his face. Bobby was always the realist, the one who wanted proof, who needed facts before making any decisions. That’s why he was so hard to convince.

“Are you serious?” he asked, shaking his head. “You’re saying we need to leave now based on... what, exactly? A feeling? A hunch?”

I rubbed my temples, feeling the weight of the strange urgency that had settled in my gut. I couldn’t explain it—couldn’t make sense of it myself. But I knew deep down that we couldn’t stay here.

“I don’t know how to explain it, Bobby. But the aliens... they’re after me. I don’t know if it’s because of something I did or... or if it’s just something bigger than that. But we have to find something. I think it’s out there.”

I pointed toward the two-track trail leading into the woods. The noise I’d heard earlier was still ringing in my ears, faint but constant, like a hum or a distant engine running. The kind of sound that gets stuck in your mind. “I heard it. It’s over that hill. I swear.”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed, skeptical but not entirely dismissive. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, then paused, his gaze flicking to the door and back at me. He didn’t want to leave. I could see it in his face, the hesitation, the uncertainty. It wasn’t logical. It didn’t make sense. But I couldn’t shake this feeling, this pull that was stronger than anything else.

“We’re just kids, man. We don’t know what’s out there. We don’t know if this is some kinda... I don’t know... dream or if you’re just getting caught up in whatever this alien thing is. I’m not—”

David, who had been playing with Tony in the corner, suddenly jumped up. “Hey, don’t be such a party pooper, Bobby! You’re seriously telling me you don’t wanna go check out a real live alien ship? We could be like... explorers, or some kind of UFO squad. Think of all the stories we could tell.”

Bobby shot him a look, and I could see the tension in his shoulders. David, being David, couldn’t help but make a joke, even when things were serious. But this wasn’t the time for jokes. This wasn’t a game.

I swallowed, trying to calm the churn in my stomach. I couldn’t lose Bobby. He had to understand, even if it sounded crazy.

“Bobby, listen to me. I can’t explain it, but I know we have to go. Please.”

Bobby hesitated again, his gaze flicking to the window where the fading light reflected off the trees in the distance. His brow furrowed in thought, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say no, that we should just stay at Andy’s and let the world go on as it had. But then his eyes softened, just for a second, and I knew he wasn’t going to be the realist this time.

“Fine,” Bobby muttered, though I could hear the reluctance in his voice. “But if this turns out to be a waste of time, I’m not letting you drag me out here again, okay?”

David, always the optimist, grinned widely. “He’s in! Let’s go, Bobby. You don’t wanna miss the chance to be famous for discovering alien life.”

Tony, who had been standing in the corner with that look of confusion on his face, suddenly wandered over to us, tugging at Bobby’s shirt. “When’s Mommy coming home?” he asked softly, his voice small in the quiet room.

Bobby looked down at him, his tough exterior cracking for a moment. He crouched down, ruffling Tony’s hair. “Soon, buddy. They’re just... out for a little while. We’ll see them soon.”

But Tony didn’t seem to understand, his little face scrunching up as he repeated, “I want Mommy now.”

David leaned in and whispered to him, “You know what, Tony? Let’s go find her. You, me, and Bobby. We’ll bring her back.”

Tony’s big brown eyes lit up, the sadness melting away for the moment as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Find Mommy!”

And in that moment, Tony’s innocent excitement was enough to push Bobby over the edge. He stood up, took a deep breath, and looked at me, finally resigned. “Alright, alright. Let’s go. But I’m not saying we’re not crazy. I just hope we don’t end up getting abducted. I’m not getting probed by any aliens.”

I didn’t know if we were going to get probed, or if we’d find what I was hearing, but the feeling deep in my gut hadn’t stopped. It hadn’t let up, and that’s what I had to trust.

I nodded. “Let’s go.”

And just like that, the four of us—me, Bobby, David, and Tony—were walking out the door of Andy’s house and into the unknown.

Chapter 9: Into the Unknown

The air was thick with the scent of summer, the trees on both sides of the two-track offering only faint relief from the heat as we walked. The dusty road stretched ahead, twisting through the forest, leading us farther away from Andy’s house. My gut tightened, a sense of urgency pulling at me, like something inside me was telling me we had to go this way. But even so, I still couldn’t fully explain why. It didn’t make sense, but I couldn’t shake it.

We’d been walking for a while now, the sound of our boots crunching against the dirt blending with the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Up ahead, I could see the slight rise of a hill. In the winter, this was where we would ski or sled down, laughing all the way. But now, in June, the view was different. The hill descended into a clearing, and beyond it, I could see a distant pond reflecting the fading sunlight. The hills beyond were layered in shadow, stretching far into the horizon. Something about that place felt important.

Bobby was walking ahead of me, his pace faster, like he wanted to get this over with, but I knew he didn’t want to be out here, away from Andy’s house. He kept glancing over his shoulder like he was ready to turn back.

“Why are we doing this, man?” Bobby muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. “We don’t even know what’s out there. We should be staying put. This whole thing’s getting too weird.”

I stopped, and he kept walking for a moment, not realizing I’d paused. He turned back, his face grim.

“I know you think we have to go. But I don’t get it. What makes you so sure?”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as I struggled for an answer. I wasn’t even sure what was driving me anymore. But I couldn’t ignore it. The pull of something out there, just beyond that hill.

“I— I had a dream last night,” I finally said, my voice steady even though I felt anything but. “Maybe it wasn’t just a dream. I don’t know.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.

“I— I was on a spaceship. There was this alien, Tsatso. He was different, not like the others.” I hesitated, then added, “It smelled... nice. Like cinnamon, or something warm. And he wasn’t scary. I... felt safe with him. He spoke to me so peacefully, like he wanted to help. But there were other aliens. They were probing me, and I was on a white bed, completely exposed.”

David stopped walking behind me, his eyes wide, listening intently.

“It was strange, but... I think it was real. I don’t know how to explain it, but I think it happened. And I think that ship, the one in my dream, is close. It’s over that hill. I can feel it.”

Bobby looked at me like I’d lost my mind, his face unreadable. “You’re telling me you’ve been abducted by aliens? And now you’re saying we should go find them? You think that’s the plan?”

David, though, stepped up beside me, his expression thoughtful. He believed me. He always believed me, even when I had doubts myself.

“Maybe it’s the only way to figure this out,” David said, his voice quiet but firm. “If the aliens are after you, we need to find them before they find us.”

Bobby crossed his arms, shaking his head. “You guys are nuts. Seriously. This is crazy. We’re just supposed to go walking through the woods because of some weird dream?”

“We’re not just walking through the woods,” David countered. “We’re looking for something. Something important.”

The sound was faint at first, like a hum or distant rumble, but it grew louder. The faint sound of something powerful, something metallic, reverberated in the air. My heart skipped a beat.

“Did you hear that?” I whispered.

Bobby stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “No way... That’s the ship. It’s out there.”

He paused, then sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

I smiled faintly, feeling a rush of relief. He wasn’t completely convinced, but he was with us now. We’d walk to the hill, follow the sound, and see where it led us.

We had already passed Andy’s house and walked down the forest path, a narrow, worn-out track that led us farther into the woods. Just beyond here, we’d connect to a two-track behind the baseball field, its trail winding deeper through the trees. The woods felt dense, the air heavy, as we approached my favorite spot, the hill at the top of the two-track. It’s a place I come to think, to relax, to just... be. Sometimes, I come here and look out over the pond to the left, the water shimmering in the distance. Beyond that, hills roll into the horizon, hills Bobby, David, and I have all climbed.

Looking north, the hill before us led to Sandy Merkey's and Aunt Mary's place, though we couldn’t see their houses from here. Our house was to the west, hidden by the thick woods. There was another two-track at the bottom of the hill. If we went left, it would circle around the pond, but the track south, worn down from disuse, was more secluded.

But it was the hilltop we were aiming for, where the ship awaited us. Well, I wasn’t sure what awaited us yet, but the dreams... the cinnamon smell... It was calling to me, even now. Tsatso had been there, on that ship, the warmth of his presence a strange comfort in the midst of everything else.

The hum grew louder. Every step felt more urgent, like we were getting closer to something inevitable. Something important.

Bobby gave a reluctant nod, and we started walking toward the hill, the distant hum growing louder with every step.

“Let’s just hope this doesn’t end with us being probed again,” Bobby muttered under his breath, but there was no humor in his voice.

I grinned, the sound of his joke almost comforting in the midst of everything. We were doing this, no matter how strange or insane it seemed. The aliens were waiting for us.

Wished Away: Beneath the Stars: Chapter 5

Wished Away: Beneath the Stars: Chapter 7

The air around us felt heavy, like something was waiting to happen, but we couldn’t shake the feeling that we needed to move. Maybe it was because the chaos of the past hours was still too fresh, or maybe it was because we didn’t know what else to do. But we couldn’t stay in Andy’s house forever.

David cracked a smile, his usual grin breaking through the tension like sunlight through clouds. "So, we’re just gonna walk into the unknown? Sounds like the beginning of a really bad action movie."

I couldn’t help but let out a breath, the nervous energy in my chest lightened just a little by his words. That was David. He was the joker, the one who always had something funny to say, even when the world was falling apart. He and I had always been close, ever since I was a kid and we would sleep in the same bed, mom’s old queen-sized bed in the corner room at the end of the hall.

That room—what used to be mom’s before the addition was built—was where I spent most of my time as a kid, trying to catch my breath between asthma attacks. Mom had turned it into my own space when my breathing problems got too bad for me to sleep in the same room as Bobby. She’d put up paneling, moved in their old bed, and made the room my own. And David would often come sleep there with me.

We’d play with our Hot Wheels long after mom thought we were asleep, and David would crack jokes, do funny impressions, or just fart to make me laugh. No matter how bad my asthma was, no matter how tight my chest felt, David always knew how to get me to smile.

There were so many memories like that. Like the time we were at Grandma’s house, and we ended up walking to 6:30 p.m. mass together, even though we could’ve skipped it. It was a half-hour mass, and we never really thought about avoiding it. We’d walk there side by side, making jokes along the way. But when we got to church, David, in his usual fashion, would do something goofy—like let out a fart just as the priest started his sermon.

We'd try to keep it together, but it was impossible. We’d both start laughing uncontrollably, and I remember one time the old man sitting in front of us turned around and asked, “What’s so funny?” That just made us laugh harder.

And even now, in the middle of all this chaos, David was still trying to make me laugh, still trying to find something to make the unbearable seem just a little bit lighter. It was his way of coping, and for me, it was like breathing again. David was always there to remind me that not everything in life had to be so serious.

“Okay, okay,” I said, forcing a grin as I shook my head. “You’re right. It’s like one bad movie after another. But, seriously, what now?”

Bobby, standing just ahead of us, had been quiet for a while. His eyes were scanning the horizon, thinking. I could see the weight of the situation pressing down on him. No more jokes. No more distractions. We needed a plan.

"We need to get out of here," Bobby said, his voice cutting through the air with authority. “The aliens might be gone for now, but we can’t stay here. Not with Andy’s parents still missing. We don’t know what’s coming next, and staying put isn't an option."

I felt my stomach drop. “But, Bobby, what if they come back? We’re just gonna walk out there like nothing happened?"

Bobby turned to face me, his eyes hard and determined. “We can’t afford to sit around waiting. We have to keep moving, figure out what we’re up against. We can’t rely on anyone else to protect us. We need to take control.”

I looked at David, then Tony, who was still holding my hand, his small fingers clinging tightly. Tony didn’t say anything, but I could see the fear in his wide eyes. He was too young to understand everything, but he knew something wasn’t right.

David nudged me with his elbow. "Hey, man, don’t worry. I’ll make sure nothing crazy happens. You’re the big brother, remember? You lead the way."

I nodded, even though I didn’t know what to think. David’s joke helped, but it didn’t make the fear go away. Bobby was right, though. We couldn’t stay here forever. We had to move. We couldn’t let whatever had happened to Andy’s parents happen to us.

“Alright,” I said, swallowing hard, my throat tight. “Where do we go?”

Bobby gave us a sharp look. “There’s a two-track behind the house. We can head into the hills, make our way to the safe house. It’s the only place we can regroup and figure out what’s going on. It’s just a few miles. But we need to move fast.”

I hesitated. We had no real choice. No one knew where Andy’s parents were. No one knew what had happened to the people in town. And with the aliens gone for now, we couldn’t just stay here and wait for them to come back. We had to act.

“Let’s go,” Bobby said, his voice firm, and we followed him, stepping into the unknown.

Wished Away: Beneath the Stars: Chapter 6

The sky, now devoid of the planes—or spacecrafts—seemed impossibly calm. The air felt thick with the remnants of chaos, the heavy silence almost unbearable. I could still hear the distant screams, the echo of lives changed forever. And yet, the world around us seemed to go on, as though nothing had happened.

David broke the tension first, his voice sharp and light, trying to cut through the suffocating seriousness. “Well, that was fun,” he said, looking around with a wry grin. “And it’s such a coincidence that all our parents aren’t around to witness this,” he added, motioning to the wreckage and chaos around us. “Talk about bad timing, huh?”

A brief, nervous laugh escaped me, but it didn’t last. The weight of the situation quickly returned, and I was reminded that this wasn’t just some nightmare we’d wake up from. This was real.

Bobby, though, wasn’t smiling. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze was distant, focused on something only he could see. Then, without warning, he turned to us, his voice cutting through the air with determination.

“No more distractions,” Bobby said, his tone sharp, authoritative. “We’re not here to stand around and make jokes. We need a plan. Andy and Dan are gone. We can’t afford to waste time.”

His words were like a cold splash of water to the face. There was no room for hesitation, no more jokes. Bobby had shed his uncertainty. He had taken charge, as the older brother rightfully should. Although the irony wasn’t lost on me—just a couple of days ago, he was on top of me, pounding on my back, laughing as if nothing serious ever happened, all while Mom and Dad had gone out to eat. And here we were, relying on him to lead us.

It hit me harder than I expected. Bobby had been the one to pick on me, the one who had pushed me around when life felt safe and predictable. Now, we needed him to lead us through the chaos. It was strange, a flip of the world I hadn’t asked for but couldn’t avoid. The weight of responsibility sat heavy on him, but it was clear—he wasn’t backing down.

“Let’s go,” Bobby said, his voice low and firm. There was no sign of the brother who once teased me; instead, there was a man who understood the gravity of the situation. He wasn’t just our older brother anymore. He was our leader.

And we had no choice but to follow.

“We’re not moving just yet,” Bobby said, his voice steady, cutting through the air with clarity. “We need to get our bearings, figure out what the hell is going on. And yeah, those things are probably gone for now, but there’s no guarantee they won’t be back. We can’t afford to sit around and wait for them to show up again, but we also can’t rush into anything. Stay put, stay hidden, and we survive this—together.”

He paused, looking up at the sky, as if expecting them to reappear at any moment. "And, honestly, I still don't get it. They were here one minute, and then gone the next. Just like that. That doesn't sit right with me. I can't help but think we’re missing something... maybe they're watching us. Waiting for something."

His words struck me harder than I expected, but what got me thinking more than anything was how easily they had disappeared. It felt off, like there was something we didn’t understand about them. And as I watched my brothers, the thought lingered—maybe it was time to share with them my secret, the one I had kept buried for far too long.

“Follow me, and keep it tight,” Bobby ordered. “We move fast, no looking back. We survive this—together.”

And just like that, Bobby became the leader I never saw coming. He wasn’t the guy who cracked jokes anymore. He was the guy who would get us through this.

I nodded, swallowing hard, my heart racing with a mix of fear and hope. We had no choice. We followed him, stepping into the unknown.

Wished Away: Beneath the Stars: Chapter 5

We scrambled out of the fort, the rusted ladder creaking beneath us as we made our way up to the trapdoor. The thick forest above felt like a sanctuary compared to the damp, musty air of the underground. My chest still burned with each breath, the wheeze fading only slightly as I sucked in the fresh air. Tony, still sniffling, held my hand tightly, his small fingers trembling.

Bobby was the first out—fittingly, as he was the oldest, perhaps even the bravest (other than Dan, who wasn’t here). The beam of his flashlight cut through the evening gloom. The woods felt unnaturally still, the usual hum of insects and rustling leaves absent, replaced by the unsettling hum of the craft in the distance. We couldn’t see it, but we could hear it, faint and low, like the growl of some distant predator circling, searching for something—or someone.

“We need to move, now,” Bobby whispered urgently, his voice tight with fear.

I turned to look at the others. "You think it's still looking for us?"

“Of course it is," David muttered. "It saw us run, didn’t it?"

"Then what do we do?" Bobby asked, his eyes wide, face pale.

I didn’t have an answer. I wanted to say something to calm them, to convince myself that we’d be okay, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that the woods seemed like the safest place to be right now, and we needed to get as far away from the fort—and that plane—as possible.

But there was another problem. The figure that had been chasing us earlier. I kept looking over my shoulder, half-expecting to see it lurking in the shadows. Had it gone back to the craft? Or was it still out there, moving quietly through the trees, waiting for the right moment to strike? We didn’t know, and that was almost worse than the plane itself.

Then there was Dan. I couldn’t stop wondering if he and Andy had seen this plane—or something like it. Would they believe us? Or had they experienced something weird themselves? We didn’t know where they were, but I could only hope they were safe, far away from whatever had come down on us.

“Let’s head for Andy’s house,” I said, trying to sound confident. “Maybe the aliens won’t know we’d go there—hopefully.”

The others nodded, though none of us seemed to believe the words I said. Tony clung to me, his thumb back in his mouth as we slipped between the trees, keeping our heads down and moving as quietly as possible.

But as we made our way through the dense woods, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t alone. The air around us seemed to hum, almost vibrating with a strange energy, and I could swear I saw shadows flickering at the edges of my vision. The craft above us was still out there, its low hum still present, but we couldn’t see it. And in the distance, there was something else—voices? Soft, indistinguishable murmurs drifting through the trees. It sounded like more of them. More of whatever had been chasing us.

It wasn’t just hunting us—it was hunting for something. And we had no idea what we were about to get caught up in.

---

We walked through the woods toward Andy’s house, every step feeling like an eternity. The hum of the hovercraft—or whatever it was—hung in the air, an eerie sound that made my skin crawl. At times, it sounded closer, and we’d freeze, ducking behind trees or crouching low to the ground, trying to calm our panic as the sound seemed to move toward us. Then, just as suddenly, it would fade into the distance, and we’d keep moving, heartbeats pounding in our ears.

The deeper we went, the more unsettling it became. I couldn’t stop thinking about the voices we’d heard earlier. Had they been other people, or something else? Were we being watched from the shadows, waiting for us to make a mistake?

Finally, we reached the edge of the woods, where the tree line broke open into a row of houses along Merky Road. The houses here were smaller, simpler, with overgrown lawns and aging fences. Andy’s house stood at the end, a two-story frame with peeling white paint and a front porch that sagged slightly to one side. It looked normal enough—nothing special, but in that moment, it felt like a sanctuary. We rushed to the front door, my hand shaking as I knocked.

Andy opened it after a moment, his eyes scanning us quickly before his expression turned serious.

"Whoa," he said, stepping back. "You guys okay?"

Andy was the same age as Dan, both of them about four years younger than me. He had blonde, curly hair and was wearing a dark blue T-shirt that fit snugly against his frame, a contrast to the usual loose clothes he favored. His serious expression made it clear that whatever was happening, it wasn’t a joke. Andy was sharp, not one to crack jokes in a tense situation. He stepped aside to let us in.

"We—we need to talk," I said, my voice hoarse.

"Are your parents home?" I asked, glancing inside.

"Nah, they’re at work," Andy said, shutting the door behind us. "They won’t be back for a while."

Behind him, Dan stepped into view. He was tall and lanky, wearing a faded tank top that barely fit right, and his usual goofy grin was nowhere to be found. Dan always had this carefree, almost goofy vibe—like nothing in the world could throw him off. His long arms were covered in the sort of scars you got from roughhousing with friends or falling off bikes. But now, his eyes were serious, scanning each of us for clues.

"You guys look like you just saw a ghost," Dan said, his usual smirk gone. He looked over at Andy, who gave him a look before turning back to us.

"We saw something... in the woods. A craft. And someone—or something—was chasing us," I said, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

Andy frowned, his face falling into a serious expression. "A craft? What do you mean, like an airplane or something?"

"Not exactly," Bobby said, stepping forward, his voice shaky. "It didn’t look like any plane I’ve ever seen. There was only one wing, and it spun in the sky like it was searching for something."

Dan raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Andy. "What are you talking about? Like, UFO stuff?"

I nodded, but before anyone could respond, Andy cut in. "Wait, wait—hold on. Did you hear about that businessman who went missing? They said his plane crashed into Lake Michigan—near here, actually. It was on the front page of the Manistee News Advocate a few weeks ago. They think it went down somewhere between here and Ludington."

"What?" I asked, confused. "You think that has something to do with... this?"

"We’re not sure," Andy said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it’s weird, right? The plane disappeared without a trace. No wreckage. And no one seems to know where it went. Some people think it went down in the lake. Others think it was something else."

I glanced at Bobby, my stomach twisting. Could the businessman’s missing plane and whatever we’d seen in the sky be connected? It seemed too much of a coincidence. And if it was, what did it all mean?

"But Mom said they 'suspected' the plane crashed into the lake," I added, my voice quieter now. "Or at least, I think that’s what she said. It’s like even they don’t know for sure."

Andy nodded slowly. "Exactly. That’s what makes it so strange. I mean, that’s what we saw on TV. But, you know, it’s weird. The lake’s huge. Could be anywhere."

Dan and Andy had already been filled in on the details of what happened to us today—our encounter with the strange craft and the voices in the woods. They listened intently, but I could see the doubt in their eyes. The idea of something otherworldly seemed far-fetched to them, but I could tell they were trying to make sense of it.

The idea of a missing plane was almost too much to take in. Could it really be the same thing that we’d just seen? Could the strange craft above us be part of something bigger? I didn’t know, but it felt like everything was starting to connect in ways I didn’t fully understand.

"We saw the craft again on the way here," I said, my voice trembling. "It’s out there. And there’s something else—people, or... something else, chasing us. We have to figure this out before they find us."

Dan and Andy exchanged worried looks, but they didn’t have any answers. All we could do was wait and hope we were safe—at least for now.

Then, without warning, it happened. A loud, very, very loud noise, like something massive crashing into the earth. The reverberations rattled the windows of Andy's house even worse than they had done at our house earlier. The entire house seemed to shudder with the impact, and my heart skipped a beat. The sound was so intense that for a moment, I couldn’t move—couldn’t think.

Bobby, Tony, and David stood frozen, their faces drained of color. Even Dan and Andy looked visibly shaken, their eyes wide as they stared at the windows, waiting for something else to happen.

"What the hell was that?" Bobby finally managed to whisper, his voice barely audible over the ringing in my ears.

"I don't know," I said, my voice barely a breath. "But it’s too close."

Outside, the night felt even heavier, the air thick with tension. I glanced at the others, trying to gauge their reactions, but no one seemed to have an answer. What was out there? What had just happened?

Andy was the first to break the silence, his voice low and urgent. "We need to get out of here. Now."

The rest of us nodded in agreement, the fear and uncertainty settling in as we hurried to gather what little we had. I didn’t know where we were going or what we were running from anymore. But I knew one thing—whatever was happening, it was bigger than us. And it wasn’t done yet.

-------------------

The sky darkened unexpectedly, as if a massive storm cloud had rolled in, but the sound that accompanied it was unlike any thunder. It started as a faint hum, growing into a deafening roar that made the ground vibrate beneath our feet. Everyone froze, heads snapping upward in unison.

Planes—dozens of them—flooded the sky, blotting out the stars and casting eerie shadows over the house. At first, I wanted to believe they were just planes, some kind of military exercise gone wrong. But the way they moved, so precise and unnatural, made it impossible to hold on to that hope.

We could no longer deny it. These weren’t planes—they were UFOs. Some looked like the aircraft we had seen earlier, with a single wing that spun and hovered unnervingly. They moved with an uncanny precision, as if alive. Each one adjusted its angle to peer into our house, the alien inside seemingly fixated on us. No matter where we went, no matter how we tried to hide—behind furniture, crouched below the windows—they could always find us. Even when Tony and I pressed ourselves into the shadows below the window, they tilted their crafts to keep us in view.

There was no escape.

The other crafts were different. They defied explanation, their shapes shifting and morphing as though the air itself bent around them. Some glowed faintly, like molten metal cooling, while others seemed to absorb the light around them, casting deep, unsettling darkness.

No matter the shape or size, they all shared one thing: an oppressive presence, as though they weren’t just watching us but reaching into us, probing for something we couldn’t understand.

The sun disappeared behind their massive forms, plunging the neighborhood into an eerie twilight. A sharp wind blew in their wake, stirring up leaves and sending shivers down our spines.

“What… what is this?” Dan’s voice cracked as he backed toward me.

Before anyone could respond, the planes began to hover in place, a low mechanical whine filling the air. Then, beams of light shot down from several of them, illuminating Andy and Dan. The beams shimmered, almost like liquid, and began to pull them upward.

“No! Andy!” I screamed, lunging forward, but the force of the light knocked me back as if an invisible wall had slammed into me. Andy flailed, his face a mix of terror and disbelief as he rose toward the nearest plane.

In that moment, a memory surfaced, sharp and clear—a flash of his laugh from just the other day when I was babysitting him. He had that mischievous grin, the one that lit up his whole face, as he said, “Put your hand on your tongue and say, ‘I love apples.’”

I had naively done it, pressing my hand to my tongue and saying the words as instructed. Only, what came out wasn’t “I love apples,” but something garbled and ridiculous. He had burst out laughing, doubling over as I realized what I had just said aloud sounded a lot more like, “I wuv aholes.”

I could still hear his laughter now, that pure, uninhibited joy.

But now, that laugh was gone, replaced by the sound of his terrified screams as the beam of light pulled him higher and higher.

Dan’s attempts to fight the pull were equally useless, his shouts drowned out by the relentless drone of the engines.

People around us screamed, scattering in panic. The planes weren’t just taking Andy and Dan. They were making a statement. With a sudden, gut-wrenching sound, one of the planes unleashed a burst of energy. It struck the house across the street, reducing it to rubble in an instant. A wave of heat and dust rolled over us, and the ground beneath our feet trembled.

“They’re serious,” someone muttered, their voice trembling with fear.

“No kidding,” I snapped, heart pounding as I tried to think. We had to do something, but what could we possibly do against this?

Another plane fired, this time hitting a parked car. The explosion sent fragments flying, the shockwave nearly knocking me off my feet. The message was clear: don’t interfere.

Andy and Dan were almost out of sight now, their figures disappearing into the bellies of the planes. My chest tightened as helplessness washed over me. This couldn’t be happening. Not here, not to us.

“We have to go,” Bobby shouted, tugging at my arm. But I couldn’t move. My eyes stayed fixed on the planes as they began to rise higher, their engines roaring louder, like a triumph in the air. I closed my eyes and prayed, hoping with everything I had that they would just go away.

Then, as suddenly as they had arrived, they were gone. The sky cleared, sunlight returning as though nothing had happened. But the devastation they left behind was all too real. Homes smoldered, debris littered the streets, and a heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by distant sobbing.

Andy and Dan were gone.

I dropped to my knees, staring up at the now-empty sky. My hands clenched into fists, and a single thought consumed me: we had to get them back, no matter what it took.

Wished Away: Beneath the Stars: Chapter 4

The silence inside the fort was deafening, broken only by our heavy breathing and the faint crackle of a small flashlight in Bobby’s hands. The weak beam flickered as he adjusted it, casting long shadows across the rough dirt walls. The air was damp and thick, carrying a dusty, musty smell that tickled my nose. It felt like this place had been sealed off for years, untouched by the outside world.

I leaned back against the cool dirt wall, Tony nestled against me, his thumb in his mouth. His wide, curious eyes followed the shaky light, darting around the dim space like he was trying to memorize every detail. The walls were roughly dug, thick roots jutting out like gnarled fingers. Some formed natural shelves, and wooden beams crisscrossed overhead, holding the ceiling in place. In the corner, the rusted ladder leading to the trapdoor stood like a forgotten secret, blending perfectly with the forest floor above.

David broke the quiet first, his voice a forced whisper.

“Well, that was fun. Anyone wanna go back out and ask what they want? Maybe invite them for tea?”

I rolled my eyes, brushing dirt off my hands. “Yeah, let me know how that goes.”

Bobby snorted. “David, if you’re trying to be funny, you’re failing. We could’ve been caught. Or worse.”

“Or worse?” David asked, grinning as he leaned against a root. “What’s worse, Bobby? You think they’re gonna probe us or something?”

“Maybe,” Bobby said, dead serious, his face half-lit by the flashlight’s glow.

Tony giggled softly, oblivious to the tension. I ruffled his hair and tried to focus on keeping him calm. “They probably just wanted directions,” I said lightly, though my heart was still racing.

David laughed. “Yeah, directions to wherever they drag us off to!”

But Bobby wasn’t laughing. His eyes flicked to the trapdoor above us. “How didn’t they see this?” he muttered. “They were right there, standing above us. How could they miss it?”

I had no answer. The door had blended so seamlessly with the forest floor, even I hadn’t noticed it until Bobby called it out. But how had the aliens—or whoever they were—not seen the hole?

David shrugged. “Maybe they’re blind.”

“Blind?” Bobby snapped. “They chased us!”

“They probably couldn’t see the fort because…” I hesitated. Because why? Because I had wished for it? Prayed for it? Did I make it invisible to them somehow?

Bobby turned his sharp gaze to me, as if he could read my thoughts. “You always have to act like everything’s fine, don’t you? Like you’ve got it all figured out.”

I stiffened, bristling. “I’m just saying there’s no point in panicking.”

David stepped in quickly, raising his hands like a referee. “Hey, cool it, Bobby. It’s not like he called the plane here.”

Except… maybe I had.

--------------------------

The silence inside the fort was deafening, broken only by our labored breathing—and the faint hiss of my inhaler. I leaned against the cool dirt wall, focusing on each breath. Every inhale felt shallow and shaky, as though my lungs were trying but failing to do their job. The wheeze in my chest rattled faintly, loud enough that I was sure my brothers could hear it too. My chest tightened, a relentless pressure squeezing harder with every passing second. I tried to draw a deep breath, but it caught in my throat, triggering a soft, raspy cough. My nose was starting to run, the damp, musty air thick with allergens that tickled at my sinuses. Whatever it was, it felt like it was crawling deeper into my lungs, settling there like an unwelcome guest.

I shook my inhaler, holding it up to the dim light, trying to guess how many puffs were left. Probably not enough if we stayed down here much longer. Tony pressed close to me, his thumb in his mouth, his wide eyes darting around the dim space like he was trying to memorize every detail.

The walls were rough and uneven, with thick roots jutting out like gnarled fingers. Some twisted into natural shelves, while wooden beams crisscrossed overhead, barely holding the ceiling in place. The whole place felt ancient, like it had been carved out of the earth ages ago and forgotten. In the corner, the rusted ladder leading up to the trapdoor stood like a secret we shouldn’t know about, its edges blending so seamlessly with the forest floor above that I wondered how anyone had ever found it.

I took a quick puff from my inhaler and leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment. The air down here was thick, heavy. I had to get out soon. If not, I wasn’t sure my inhaler—or my lungs—would last much longer.

“I gotta pee,” Tony said suddenly, breaking the long silence.

I blinked, trying to figure out how long we’d been down here. Time felt slippery in the fort, like the outside world had stopped the moment we dove underground.

“Well, where is Dan? He’s the one who’d be brave enough to poke his head out,” David muttered.

Dan was the fourth of us brothers. Bobby, David, and I were a year apart—Aunt Dolly always called us “three peas in a pod.” Then there was a four-year gap before Dan, and little Tony came along a few years later to round out the group.

“Dan’s at Andy’s,” I reminded them. I’m the one who keeps track of things. That’s just how it goes, which is probably why I’m the one writing this story. Whether you believe it or not, that’s up to you—but hey, thanks for reading this far.

“I gotta pee!” Tony said again, more urgently this time.

David rolled his eyes. “Just let it out,” he muttered.

I shook my head, my voice low but firm. “I don’t think we can get out right now—not with that plane up there and… whatever was chasing us.”

Bobby shifted uncomfortably, his flashlight beam bouncing against the crisscrossing wooden beams above us. “He can’t just—”

“I gotta go!” Tony said urgently, his thumb popping out of his mouth. “I can't hold it!”

The tension hung in the air, as thick and heavy as the fort’s atmosphere. We needed to make a decision, and fast.

--------------

Bobby shifted uneasily, his hand still gripping the flashlight. The beam danced across the uneven ceiling, casting strange shadows on the walls. His voice was low but urgent. “We can’t just stay here forever. We have to figure something out.”

Tony, still pressed close to me, squirmed in my arms. His thumb was back in his mouth, but he was tense now, his small face scrunched with worry. “I gotta pee,” he mumbled around the thumb, his voice muffled.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Bobby snapped. “We can’t just—”

“Hold it forever?” Tony’s voice was clearer now, his thumb popping out for a second before he shoved it back in. His impatience, though young, was hard to ignore.

I glanced around the darkened fort. The silence was thick and heavy, broken only by the sound of our breathing. The musty air clung to my skin, and the weight of the moment pressed on my chest. We were running out of time.

“Let’s go.” I stood up, trying to steady my shaky breath, the tightness in my chest still there. My inhaler was almost empty, but I didn’t mention it. There was no time to dwell on that now.

David eyed me with a mix of caution and relief. “You sure?”

I nodded, forcing myself to sound calm, though every part of me screamed for us to stay hidden. “We can’t stay here. We don’t know how long the plane is gonna hover, or if they’re still out there. We’ll take a risk, but we need to move.”

Bobby looked over at the trapdoor. His face was drawn tight with concern, but he didn’t argue. He knew I was right. “Fine. But if they’re still out there—”

“They won’t see us,” I interrupted, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “We’ll go slow, check the area first. Then we move. Got it?”

Tony tugged at my sleeve. “Pee now?”

I sighed, realizing that the poor kid wasn’t going to wait much longer. “We’ll figure it out, buddy. Just hold on.”

We gathered ourselves. The trapdoor was still hidden, blending with the forest floor above, but I knew it wasn’t foolproof. One wrong move, and we could be spotted. My heart pounded in my ears as I carefully reached for the rusted handle, pulling it ever so slowly. It creaked, just a little, but I held my breath, hoping it wouldn’t be loud enough to draw attention.

David peered out first, his head barely visible above the edge of the trapdoor. He stayed still for a moment, scanning the area. My eyes flicked nervously to the flashlight beam, bouncing now with every shift of Bobby’s hand. I half expected it to draw unwanted attention.

After what felt like an eternity, David whispered, “Clear. For now.”

We all exchanged a look, each of us trying to steady the rising panic inside. Slowly, one by one, we climbed up the ladder, our movements deliberate and quiet. I went last, making sure to push the trapdoor back into place once we were all out. The damp ground felt solid beneath my feet, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were still being watched.

Tony suddenly let out a small sob. I glanced down at him, and that’s when I realized it—his pants were wet. The smell of urine hit the air just as I heard the telltale sound of it hitting the ground. Tony stood there, frozen, his face crumpled with the realization that he’d peed his pants.

“I—I didn’t mean to!” he cried, his voice breaking as tears welled in his eyes. His tiny hands reached up for me, desperate for comfort.

I bent down quickly, pulling him into my arms. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay.” I whispered into his hair, my heart breaking for him. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. But right now, we didn’t have the luxury of time or perfect circumstances. I gently rubbed his back, trying to soothe him, though my own nerves were unraveling.

David and Bobby both looked at Tony, the tension thick between us all. Bobby shifted awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but David’s eyes softened, his protective instincts kicking in. “He’s just a kid,” David said quietly, his voice rough. “We’re not exactly in the best place for him.”

I nodded, holding Tony close, the wetness of his pants a stark reminder of how out of control things were. “We’ll get out of here,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

The sound of the plane’s engine rumbled in the distance, reminding us that we were far from safe. We couldn’t waste any more time.

I wiped a tear from Tony’s cheek and gave him a small smile. “Ready to go?” I asked, my voice shaky but determined.

Tony sniffled and nodded, clinging to me as we made our way forward, one step at a time. The plane was still circling, but we had no choice now. We had to move, and we had to move fast.

The night felt darker, colder. But we weren’t giving up yett

Wished Away: Beneath the Stars: Chapter 3

The rest of the day went rather uneventful—except for the weird black dust on the other side of the baseball fence, which none of us could shake from our minds. We kids watched cartoons in the morning. The Smurfs were on, and we were all huddled on the couch, half-listening to the antics of Papa Smurf and Brainy. Mom came in with the vacuum, her timing impeccable as always, but even she couldn’t sweep away the strange feeling lingering in the air.

“You have to do that right now?” Bobby muttered, sinking lower into the couch as though that would shield him from the noise.

“Things need to get done,” Mom replied, her tone matter-of-fact and carrying that undercurrent of mild annoyance only moms can master. She didn’t even look up from unwrapping the cord of the vacuum.

I always felt a twinge of guilt when Mom vacuumed. Maybe it was the hum of the machine, or maybe it was the fact that she looked like she was on a mission while the rest of us sprawled out like sloths. But Saturday mornings were sacred. The one time all week when cartoons ruled, and the world felt like it could pause for a bit. So yeah, it did feel a little rude that Mom picked this moment, of all the moments, to turn the living room into a war zone of noise.

Still, nothing more was said. Bobby’s muttering went unanswered, and the rest of us just hunkered down, watching the show through the loud hum of the vacuum, hoping to avoid eye contact that might lead to being handed a chore. Mom finished up without any further commentary, sparing us—this time.

After the cartoon block ended, Tony piped up, “I want to watch Alvin and the Chipmunks!” His voice had that whiny edge like he already knew he’d have to fight for it.

Mom didn’t even hesitate. She turned the channel. Bobby and David both groaned in protest, flopping their heads back on the couch dramatically, as though this was the ultimate injustice of the decade.

“You guys had the TV all morning. It’s Tony’s turn,” Mom said firmly. Her words weren’t up for debate, and her tone had that finality to it that stopped further arguments in their tracks.

The room fell into a heavy silence, except for the high-pitched voices of Alvin, Simon, and Theodore chirping through the screen. Bobby crossed his arms and glared at the TV like it had personally betrayed him. David just sighed loudly enough for everyone to hear.

I didn’t mind either way. The Chipmunks were fine. Besides, there was no point in fighting when Mom had spoken. She didn’t often get involved in TV disputes, but when she did, her word was law.

Mom stood there, hands on her hips, looking between us like she was daring someone to test her patience. “You know,” she said, her voice sharp but not unkind, “if you’re going to sit around all day, maybe I should find some jobs for you to do.”

That got Bobby and David moving just a little straighter on the couch. Even Tony, despite his victory, looked uneasy.

Mom finally smiled, the kind of smile that let us know she’d decided against giving us chores—for now. “Enjoy your cartoons,” she said, walking toward the kitchen. “But don’t think I’m not keeping track of who’s done what around here.”

The sound of her footsteps faded, replaced by the chipper theme song of the Chipmunks. Bobby whispered something under his breath, probably not fit for Mom’s ears, and David just shook his head.

And that was how most Saturdays went. Small battles, minor victories, and the unshakable sense that Mom was always two steps ahead of us.

_____________________

That afternoon, we found ourselves on the makeshift baseball field behind the Bottrell house on Merkey Road in Ludington, Michigan. Even little Tony, only three years old, was part of the action. The field wasn’t perfect—far from it. The right field was practically non-existent, swallowed up by a forest of trees. So, we made a house rule: any ball hit into right field was an automatic foul. You either had to hit to center or left field, which wasn’t much better, but at least playable.

The infield was complete, though the bases were closer together than they were at Tiger Stadium. A two-track trail ran from the driveway, slicing through the left side of the outfield and vanishing into the trees. There was no fence on the left, but a makeshift gate in center field allowed cars to pass through if Dad or another adult needed to drive back there.

David had his bat resting on his shoulders, waiting for his turn in the batter’s box. But little Tony was already there, crouched down like Alan Trammell, gripping his tiny bat and ready to swing. Bobby was on the mound, but it was clear he had no intention of pitching to Tony. So, I grabbed the Wiffle ball, stood between the batter’s box and the pitcher’s mound, and tossed the ball underhand. Tony swung wildly and missed.

The ball rolled away, and Tony toddled over to retrieve it. He picked it up and lobbed it back, though it only made it halfway. I walked to meet it, bent down, and tossed it underhand again. This time, he connected—solidly—sending the ball sailing over my head. Tony chased it down, his little legs pumping with determination. For a while, this simple game of toss-and-swing was all the entertainment he needed.

When Tony tired of batting, David stepped up to the plate, and Bobby whizzed a fastball past him. Tony, now thoroughly distracted, wandered off. I grabbed a box of Hot Wheels from the shed and set him up on a pile of sand far enough away from the field to avoid stray balls. While he played contentedly, we got in three full innings.

Then, Bobby stepped up to bat. With a grunt of concentration, he swung with all his might. The ball flew—high, fast, and far—right over the fence and out of the field.

I was in the outfield, right along the fence, playing deep in hopes of shagging a home run, as Bobby was known to hit them that way. But this time, I wasn’t fast enough.

“Whoa!” David exclaimed, as we all turned to watch the ball soar into the trees.

“I’ll go get it,” I said, jogging toward the fence.

I reached the edge of the field and peered into the tall June grass, thick with ferns and shrubs. But the ball was nowhere to be seen. I crouched down, searching through the brush, my fingers brushing over the damp earth. It was strange—where could it have gone? I couldn’t see it anywhere.

“Found it?” Bobby called from behind me, his voice carrying in the still air.

“No. It’s gotta be here somewhere,” I replied, shaking my head. I started to move further, crossing the two-track trail and heading down the small hill beyond the fence.

The ground sloped sharply, and the tall grass grew thicker. The ball must have rolled down here. I was determined to find it.

And then we all stopped.

In the midst of the hill’s rough terrain, we came upon a strange sight. The area was a clearing, but it didn’t look natural. The grass was burned, and black powder was scattered everywhere. What was this? The smell of smoke still lingered in the air, thick and acrid.

Bobby knelt down, cautiously touching the black dust with his fingers. “What happened here?” he muttered, a frown creasing his brow.

We all stood there in stunned silence, not knowing what to make of it. The ground was scorched, but there was no fire in sight. And the powder—it was strange. It didn’t look like dirt, but something else entirely. Something... out of place.

"Is it from the plane?" David asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

I looked up, a chill running down my spine. The plane from earlier—it had been hovering just above us. Was this... part of what it left behind? Or had something happened to the plane itself?

I didn’t know, but the more I stared at the black dust, the more uneasy I felt. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just some random fire.

“We should head back,” I suggested, my voice shaky as I looked around the clearing. The sound of the wind in the trees seemed louder than before.

The rest of us nodded, not needing much convincing. We turned and quickly retraced our steps, heading back up the hill, away from the strange burned clearing. But the image of the black powder stayed with me, gnawing at the edges of my mind.

What was that?

--------------

Bang! The sound hit us like a slap, sharp and violent, the same as before, the one we’d heard while we were in the bathroom. My heart nearly stopped, a cold shudder running through me. I spun around, instinctively, my eyes scanning the sky. There, in the distance, barely more than a dark speck against the wide-open sky, was the plane—still wingless, just floating there like some broken thing from a nightmare. It seemed so small from where we stood, like a toy caught in a gust of wind, but I knew.

It was that plane.

It was facing east now, and in the air next to it, there was an explosion of black smoke and dust. A burst of fire and debris lit up the sky—something in the air close to the plane had just been obliterated. My mind raced to make sense of it. Was it another plane? A missile? Whatever it was, it had been incinerated on impact, the remains disintegrating into the dust that now rained down on the hillside. Now we knew what the black dust was.

But before I could process it, the plane moved.

In an instant, it pivoted—its movements smooth, almost too precise, like it had locked onto us. Within a heartbeat, it was upon us, faster than anything I could’ve imagined. It was so close, the air itself seemed to vibrate with its presence. I looked up, and there it was—right above us, the alien figure in the window staring down at us, its hollow eyes filled with something I couldn’t even describe. I froze, heart hammering in my chest, caught in that terrifying gaze for a split second before it came crashing down on me.

Bobby’s voice broke through the terror, shouting, “RUN!”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I fumbled with my inhaler, my breath coming short, anxiety gnawing at me. I took a quick puff, trying to steady my lungs as the world spun. Without another word, we bolted into the woods, a place we knew like the back of our hands. We ran hard, dodging trees, leaping over roots and stumps, our legs burning with the effort.

Finally, we stopped in a clearing, gasping for air, my chest tightening. I didn’t wait long. Once again, I used my inhaler, praying it would bring me some relief as the sounds of the world around us felt like they were closing in.

The plane was hovering overhead now, its engine growling ominously. Through the window, we could see the same figure as before—alien-like and menacing. My stomach churned as I took it in.

“It’s watching us,” Bobby said, his voice trembling.

The plane pivoted sharply, spinning on a dime, and suddenly it was on the other side of the clearing. The “alien” was looking directly at us.

We didn’t wait. We bolted deeper into the woods. I scooped up Tony and carried him, my heart pounding as something—or someone—chased us. The sound of footsteps behind us was getting closer, snapping twigs and crunching leaves.

Panic surged through me, and in my desperation, I silently prayed, Please, God, give us somewhere to hide.

And then, as if answering my prayer, Bobby shouted, “Down here!”

He pointed to a hole in the ground that hadn’t been there before—or at least, we’d never noticed it. Without hesitation, we dove in, one by one, into what turned out to be a small underground fort.

The space was cramped but offered just enough cover. We huddled together, holding our breaths. Above us, the footsteps grew louder.

There were voices now—chatter, but in a language we couldn’t understand. The footsteps circled the area, then began to fade. For now, we were safe.

I looked around the fort. It wasn’t just a hole—it was built, with walls of packed dirt and makeshift supports.

“Where did this come from?” I whispered.

No one answered.

Did I do this? Was this fort my doing, a response to my desperate wish?

We sat in silence, ears straining for any sound of our pursuers.

For now, we were safe. But for how long?

Wished Away: Beneath the Stars: Chapter 2

The bathroom door creaked as we stepped out, the air thick with a strange mix of relief and dread. Bobby’s nervous chatter bubbled up immediately, words spilling over themselves in the quiet of the hallway. I put a finger to my lips, silencing him, but he shot me a look that said he wasn’t pleased. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I could see the irritation in his eyes—as if I had overstepped, as though he was supposed to be the one calling the shots.

David was the last to leave the bathroom, closing the door with exaggerated care like he was sneaking out of a bank heist. His dark hair, neatly feathered back from the short haircut Mom insisted we all get for summer, gave him an almost polished look—though it didn’t quite match the goofy grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, that was an adventure,” he whispered, shooting me a mock-serious look. “We should form a club: Survivors of Mysterious Planes.”

“Not now,” I whispered, though it was hard not to smile. David always had a way of breaking the tension, whether we wanted him to or not.

The hallway felt oppressively quiet after the earlier chaos, but I couldn’t shake the memory of the bang—the one so loud it rattled the windows. I hadn’t mentioned it yet, unsure of what it could mean or if it was even related. My chest tightened at the thought.

Then the sound of Mom’s car pulling into the driveway shattered the silence. Relief swept over me like a wave, though I knew it was fleeting. Whatever just happened with that plane—or whatever it was—we’d have to keep it to ourselves for now. Mom didn’t miss much, but explaining this was impossible.

The kitchen door slammed shut, her keys jangling as she called out, “Kids? You home?”

David smirked and muttered, “Nope. Definitely not here.” I shot him a look, but he just shrugged.

Mom’s voice grew sharper as she walked into the house. “Bobby? Tony? David? John?”

Tony, still clutching his chewed-up plastic army man, shuffled forward from the hallway. His red-and-white-striped shirt looked too bright against the gray January light streaming in through the windows.

“What were you all doing in the bathroom?” Mom asked, her tone suspicious as her gaze swept over us. Her eyes landed on Bobby, whose light blue top with white trim was a little wrinkled. His red shorts clashed horribly with his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care.

“Nothing,” Bobby mumbled, his irritation still simmering.

“I’ve got half a mind to ask, but I’m not sure I want to know.” Mom sighed, shaking her head as she set the bags on the counter. “I swear, I can never find you when I need help. Come on, help me put these groceries away so I can get started on lunch.”

Bobby darted toward the kitchen like a soldier responding to a direct order, his earlier irritation with me already forgotten. Tony followed more slowly, lazily swinging his army man by its head, the chewed-up leg bouncing against his wrist. David trailed after them, giving me a playful nudge as he passed. There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes that said Mom seemed to have no clue about the one-winged plane or the bang that had shaken the house. It felt like we’d been doing something stupid and gotten away with it—for now.

“Relax,” he whispered. “What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like she’ll find out about…” He mimed a plane crash with his hands, complete with sound effects.

“Cut it out,” I hissed, but I couldn’t help a small laugh.

When we got to the kitchen, Mom was already pulling bread and peanut butter from the pantry. Her hair was a little frizzier than usual, and her face had that tight, hurried look she always got when she had too much to do.

“Where were you this morning?” she asked, slicing bread like it had offended her. “You could’ve been helping me clean instead of…whatever you were doing.”

“Just…hanging out,” I said, trying to sound casual. David slid onto a stool next to Tony, propping his chin in his hands dramatically. Tony, for his part, was swinging his legs and humming softly, entirely absorbed in pulling his army men into a neat line on the counter.

“Hanging out?” Mom glanced at me sharply. “With the bathroom window open in January? You’re lucky the pipes didn’t freeze.”

I didn’t answer. The last thing I needed was for her to start asking why the window had been open in the first place. She sighed and shook her head, dropping sandwiches onto plates with a little more force than necessary.

“Did you hear anything this morning?” she asked suddenly. “About the plane?”

My stomach tightened. “What plane?”

“There’s a lot of talk at the lot,” she said, setting a plate in front of Tony. “Some big-shot businessman was supposed to fly into Ludington this morning, but his plane never showed up. People are saying…” She trailed off, frowning as she pulled a chair out and sat down.

“Saying what?” Bobby asked, crumbs falling from his mouth.

“Well, some folks think it crashed into the lake,” Mom said, her tone low. “But no one heard anything. No distress call, no wreckage. Just…gone.”

David froze mid-bite, his normally mischievous expression giving way to something more serious. “That’s…weird,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

I felt the words like a weight pressing on my chest. I couldn’t look at her, not with the heat rising to my face. Bobby and Tony didn’t seem to notice—Tony was busy dismembering a potato chip, and Bobby had already finished his sandwich.

Mom stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back with a scrape. “I’ve got laundry to do,” she said, grabbing her plate. “You kids clean up.”

She disappeared down the hallway, her footsteps fading as she descended to the basement. The silence she left behind was suffocating.

“You think it’s really gone?” Bobby asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” I said, my throat dry. “I think it is.”

David raised an eyebrow, his grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, uh…anyone else want to join my club now?”

Wished Away: Beneath the Stars: Chapter 1

I looked out the large picture window in my mom’s bedroom, its wooden frame weathered with age, some of the panels starting to rot—or at least, that’s what it seemed like. This window had always been there, a relic from the 1960s, but it was still sturdy, offering the best view in the house. The room used to be the living room, but after Dad had the house expanded to the north, that space became the new living room, and this one became Mom and Dad’s bedroom—or what we all just called Mom’s bedroom. From here, I could see Dad’s garden, the two-track road to the left, and the distant hills. Behind the garden, a group of large pine trees blocked the view of our makeshift baseball fields, hidden just out of sight. Even though the room had shifted from the heart of the house to a bedroom, that old window still held a sense of familiarity, still drew me in with its sweeping view of the open sky.

And then, something in the sky caught my attention.

From the left, an aircraft appeared. Not unusual, really. Planes often flew overhead, especially on clear days like this. But this one was different. Something was wrong. The plane looked damaged and was flying low, heading toward the woods to the right (west) of our home. I could feel my stomach drop. It seemed like it was going to crash. "It’s going to crash," I muttered to myself, my voice barely above a whisper. The hum it emitted was low, almost like a growl, and it sent a strange vibration through my bones. Something about it just didn’t seem right.

At first, I thought it was just another airplane. But then I saw it more clearly. One of its wings was missing. The small white plane had red lettering on the side, but it was too far away to make out any details. The sound it made was unsettling—rumbling in my chest, like it was alive. And then, the red letters shimmered faintly, almost as though they were… alive. A cold shiver ran through me, despite the warmth of the sun.

I stood frozen, my reflection faintly visible in the glass. Small and thin for my age, wearing those old, baggy 1980s-style shorts that hung loosely around my legs, I looked out of place. Thirteen, and already feeling a little smaller than most of the other kids. In that moment, I couldn’t help but feel like my reflection didn’t belong to someone about to face whatever this strange airplane was. My heart pounded in my chest, a sense of dread creeping in, making me feel more like a kid than I wanted to.

“That plane’s going to crash,” I murmured aloud, my voice trembling as I turned and bolted from the room. Through the kitchen, across the breezeway, and into the yard I ran. I wasn’t exactly built for running—short for my age, a head below most of the other kids in my class. My legs didn’t exactly scream "athlete," but they got me where I needed to go. Baseball was my thing, though. Well, in my head, I was amazing at it. In real life? Not so much. But I loved it—playing ball with friends, the feeling of the bat meeting the ball just right, even if I was never quite the star.

Outside, I craned my neck to track the plane’s path, expecting it to nosedive at any second. But it didn’t. Instead of flying straight like a normal plane, it spun, as though on a dime, like Isiah Thomas would to elude a defender on his way to the basket for a layup. And then it just hovered there, pointed right at me.

That’s when I realized the missing wing wasn’t an accident. The plane—whatever it was—was designed that way. The single wing, though it appeared almost normal in shape, was positioned so unnaturally, as if it was the only thing that mattered for flight. The other side was just a smooth, featureless surface, a stark contrast. There was no tail, no second wing—just emptiness where there should’ve been something to balance it out. My stomach knotted. What kind of plane, or craft, flies like that? Was it some kind of secret government project? Or was it something from... somewhere else? Some strange alien design?

I didn’t have any answers. But what I did know—what I felt—was that the plane was looking for me. It wasn’t just flying aimlessly. It had purpose. Intent.

Panic rising, I darted to the far side of the house to hide. But the plane rotated effortlessly, tracking me. I crouched behind a bush, heart hammering in my chest. Normally, when a plane flies straight, you can use something like a bush as cover, timing your movement to stay out of sight. But this wasn’t a normal plane. It hovered, spun, adjusted—always keeping me in its line of sight.

The bush offered no protection. Wherever I went, the plane’s gaze followed. My chest felt tight, each breath shallow and labored, as though the air itself had thickened around me. I instinctively pressed my hand to my pants pocket, feeling for my inhaler. It was there. Relief flickered briefly, but I knew I couldn’t stop to use it yet. I had to focus, had to think, but my mind was clouded with fear, the thumping of my heart too loud to hear anything else.

I couldn’t stay outside. My instinct told me to retreat, so I darted back into the house. But the relief was short-lived. The plane—or whatever it was—didn’t stop. It hovered outside, peering through every window I passed.

I went into the living room and froze. The plane hovered outside, its presence ominous as it drifted just beyond the large picture window. Something—or someone—inside the craft was moving. A shadow. A shape. It wasn’t just watching. It was searching. For me.

I ducked and crept into the kitchen, my breathing shallow, but it followed. I heard the faint hum of its engine, low and menacing, vibrating the glass as it hovered outside the kitchen window. I pulled the curtains shut, hoping to block its view. But even with the curtains drawn, I could still feel its presence. The hum didn’t stop. It just lingered.

I moved to another room, this time the bathroom. No large windows here, just a small one high on the wall. I crouched in the corner, thinking I’d found a safe spot. But then, I heard it. The sound shifted, like the craft had adjusted its position. I dared to glance up, and there it was—hovering outside the tiny bathroom window.

My heart raced. It wasn’t just the sight of the plane—it was the growing certainty that it wasn’t an ordinary aircraft. It didn’t move like one, and it didn’t act like one. It wasn’t just following me—it was anticipating me. It was thinking.

I felt like I was being hunted. The air in the bathroom grew colder, thick with tension. There was no escaping it, no running, no hiding.

I tried to think rationally. Maybe I could call someone, but who? The authorities? What would I even say? “A plane with one wing is stalking me”? They’d think I was crazy.

Instead, I moved back to the living room, closing every curtain as I went. But the hum persisted, louder now, resonating in my chest. It wasn’t just watching. It was taunting me, waiting for me to make a move.

And then, the lights flickered.

I stopped, frozen. The hum outside grew deeper, resonating like a warning. Something inside me—instinct, fear, intuition—told me I couldn’t just stay hidden. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t going to leave until it got what it wanted.

I crawled out of the bathroom corner, heart pounding, and crept toward the hallway. The plane was still there, hovering outside the tiny window, casting a faint shadow over the room. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

The hum vanished, replaced by an eerie silence. I ran to the living room, peeking through the curtains. The sky was as clear as ever, blue with scattered white clouds. The plane was gone.

I stood there, heart still racing, fighting the urge to collapse. What was I supposed to make of all that? Was it real, or was I just losing my mind?

I stood there, catching my breath, trying to make sense of it all. My chest tightened again, a reminder of the strain from minutes of panic. My hand trembled as I reached into my pocket, pulling out my white Alupent inhaler. I placed it to my lips, pressed down, and took a deep puff.

That’s when it happened.

________________

A deafening bang shattered the quiet, like an explosion right outside the house. The floor shook beneath me. Glass rattled in the windows. I dropped to the floor instinctively, hands over my head.

“Bobby! David!” I yelled, my voice trembling.

From somewhere down the hall, I heard them screaming. A second later, Bobby burst into the room, his face pale, dragging David by the arm.

“Get in here!” I shouted, waving them toward the bathroom.

They bolted past me, Bobby slamming the door behind us as we huddled in the cramped space. I locked the door, as if that would somehow protect us.

“What was that?” Bobby gasped, his voice cracking.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my heart pounding like a drum. “The plane... it’s gone, but then... that bang.”

David was crying, clutching his stuffed dinosaur like it was his lifeline. “What’s happening? Where’s Mom? Where’s Dad?”

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “But we’re gonna be fine. We just have to stay here until it’s safe.”

Bobby looked at me, his brown eyes wide and searching. “You saw the plane, didn’t you? The weird one with one wing?”

I nodded. “Yeah. It was... watching me. I think. It didn’t feel normal. And then it disappeared, and—”

A low rumble interrupted me, like distant thunder, growing louder. It didn’t sound natural.

We all froze.

“Is it coming back?” Bobby whispered, his voice barely audible.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know.

David clung to me, his small body trembling. “Why did it disappear?” he asked, his voice shaky but curious. “Do you think it’s magic?”

“I don’t know,” I said softly. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s something else. I just... I don’t think it’s gone for good.”

Bobby peeked through the bathroom’s tiny window, his face tense. “I don’t see anything,” he said, but his voice didn’t sound relieved.

The rumbling stopped, replaced by a strange, metallic screech. It was closer now, like it was right outside the house.

“What is that?” David whimpered.

“I don’t know, buddy,” I said, pulling him closer. “But we’re okay. We’re gonna stay safe in here.”

David looked up at me, his eyes welling with tears. “What if it’s looking for us?” he whispered.

I hesitated, trying to think of something reassuring. “Then it’s gonna have a hard time finding us in here,” I said with a small, forced smile. “We’re good at hiding, remember?”

He nodded, but his grip on his stuffed dinosaur tightened.

And then we heard it—a knock at the front door. Three loud, deliberate knocks.

We stared at each other, the air heavy with fear.

“Who would be knocking right now?” Bobby whispered, his voice shaking.

I didn’t know. But something inside me said that whoever—or whatever—was at the door wasn’t here to help.

The knock echoed through the bathroom, more insistent this time. My heart was still racing, pounding so loud I thought whoever—or whatever—was outside could hear it.

David whispered, “What if it’s... it?”

Bobby clutched my arm, his knuckles white. “Don’t open it,” he said. “Don’t.”

I nodded, my mouth dry, my hand trembling as I placed it on the lock. Then came the voice, soft and muffled, but unmistakable.

“I have to pee.”

We froze. My brain scrambled to process what I’d just heard. That voice—it wasn’t strange or threatening. It was familiar.

Another knock, lighter this time. “I have to pee,” the voice repeated.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to unlock the door. It creaked open, revealing Tony, standing there in his rumpled yellow sleeper, the fabric stretched and faded from too many washes. His bucket haircut stuck out at odd angles, his cheeks flushed with sleep.

He rubbed his eyes with one fist. “Why didn’t you open the door?” he asked, his tone more annoyed than scared.

For a moment, none of us spoke. Then Bobby let out a nervous laugh, the kind that comes when tension finally snaps. David joined in, and before long, we were all giggling like maniacs.

Tony frowned, completely confused. “What’s so funny? I really have to pee.”

“Go ahead,” I said, stepping aside to let him in.

He waddled to the toilet and climbed up, humming to himself like nothing was wrong.

The three of us exchanged looks, the laughter dying down but the unease lingering. Tony’s innocent knock had broken the tension, but the unease lingered. As Tony finished his business, I glanced at the window, half-expecting to see that plane hovering just beyond the glass. It wasn’t there—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was still out there somewhere, waiting.