(Governor Tom's Note: This is a little homage to the imagination I wrote during my junior year of college.)
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Nine-year-old Fred Firestead sat at his desk, a string of saliva hanging from his agape mouth. He stared blankly at the gray-haired Miss Blankenhagen as she snowed her classroom under clouds of chalk dust. She would occasionally stop writing on the board and turn to the class, gazing out over them as if she were an undead demon goddess about to recite a damnation, her large circular glasses magnifying her eyes by five times. Fred wiped the saliva from his chin and watched in amusement as Miss Blankenhagen turned back to the board and started writing again, her quick arm movements quaking the fat on her hips. He turned to the window and frowned at the iron-gray beast of winter looming outside, sharpening the air with its chill while he pleaded silently for sunlight. Soon realizing the sun wasn’t going to appear any time soon, Fred turned back to the classroom. Miss Blankenhagen was still droning.
He sighed and looked down at his desk. He adjusted his notebook so it was directly in front of him, the keyboard of black and red buttons glistening neatly on top of it. His fingers danced rapidly as he punched in the code to initiate the launch sequence. A woman’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker. "Launch sequence initiated. Countdown at your command."
"Roger that," Fred said, staring at the number ten displayed in red on his console. "Begin countdown." The ten went backwards towards one in synch with the voice.
"...three, two, one...launch!" the woman said.
The building rumbled as the thrusters kicked in. Fred turned to the window and saw the city growing smaller. The clouds flew past the panes before the ship came clear of them into the blue. The blue faded slowly to a navy before becoming completely black as the ship exited the Earth’s atmosphere. Fred punched the accelerator, the distant white stars zooming by. After passing through three galaxies, he decreased the speed until the ship was almost still. "Computer," he said. "Activate autopilot. Just let it coast for a while."
"Negative!" the voice said. Fred’s console started to beep. "Ship has been boarded by a foreign party."
"What!" he said, sitting up. "Can you identify the foreign party?"
There was silence for a moment. Then the computer said, "The forms appear to be chalkalkaloids and erasines."
No sooner had the voice said this than a trio of chalkalkaloids stormed into the room, demolishing the door in their path. They were each seven feet tall, milky white and widely cylindrical in shape, their lanky limbs stemming from their bodies like serpentine tumors. As they drew closer, growling incoherent threats, Fred could make out the network of ice-blue veins pulsating beneath their skin. Behind them he could see a trio of erasines enter the room, their dark forms dragging along the floor. Even though the erasines didn’t have mouths, he could hear them whimpering.
Just as Fred jumped out of his seat, pencil in hand, one of the chalkalkaloids grabbed him by the neck. The cold leathery three-fingered claw lifted him high into the air. His head starting hammering as the oxygen was cut off. His strength lessening by the second and the world around him starting to blur, Fred dropped the pencil and grabbed hold of the arm. He yanked it as hard as he cold, disconnecting it from the socket. After landing on the ground, he threw the arm away and retrieved his pencil, the wounded chalkalkaloid roaring in pain as the ice-blue blood gushed from its torn socket. The two remaining chalkalkaloids were about to avenge their wounded comrade when Fred pointed his pencil at them. "Think again, chalk-suckers," he said before firing a graphite ray into one of them. The ray flew directly into the chalkalkaloid’s face, blasting it into countless shreds. He fired a second ray into the other one with the same results.
The three erasines began whimpering with ear-ringing shrieks, almost forcing Fred to shield his ears. These creatures had no limbs. They were short stumpy rectangular black blocks sliding along the floor, leaving a trail of thick lumpy slime behind them. Their shrieks had already started to crack the windows when Fred pointed his pencil at them. "Come and get it, you cry babies!" He fired three quick shots, all three graphite rays finding their respective targets, but he had to shield himself from the wet black flesh raining on him.
"Puny human!" came a snarl from outside the door. The speaker soon appeared, its twelve-foot figure clogging the doorway. Fred knew who this was.
"Blankenhagen!" he said, his teeth clenched in disgust. Blankenhagen’s eyes were enormous glassy orbs protruding from a small cubical head topped by a tangled arrangement of gray hair. When it spoke, he could see the rows of razor-sharp teeth in its mouth. "I should have known you were behind this."
"It’s time to die, Firestead," it said in its guttural voice.
"Think again--"
Fred couldn’t finish his repartee before Blankenhagen strode across the room and grabbed him by the arms. Fred struggled to free himself, but Blankenhagen’s grip was at least ten times stronger than the chalkalkaloid’s had been. "Can you fly?" Blankenhagen said as it carried Fred to the window. "I’ve always wanted to see someone fly through space." Just as it was about to throw the boy out, Fred managed to free one of his arms. He grabbed one of Blankenhagen’s eyes and ripped it from its socket. Blankenhagen let him go as it reeled in pain. Fred quickly shoved it through the window. He laughed hysterically as Blankenhagen drifted helplessly into space.
He turned from the window to see Miss Blankenhagen putting her chalk down. "All right, class," she said. "It’s time for lunch." Fred eagerly snatched his lunch box from the floor and joined the rest of the class as they flocked to the cafeteria.
