Earthbeing Come Home

Adam leaned his bicycle against the ancient monolith. In the strange void between Christmas and New Year, with the solstice celebrations long past, Stonehenge was deserted.

It was still dark to the West, but in the East, an orange rind of light unpeeled itself from the dark earth. Great, he thought, the sun’s rising, I’m ready.

Adam quickly unpacked a dozen rattle-cans from his rucksack. The crepuscular dawn and the paint’s fluorescence would give him plenty of light to work with. He took a deep breath; his art was so often misconstrued but what were prehistoric cave paintings other than graffiti, the most primeval art form of all.

The runes seemed to draw themselves as they rose out the ridges of the sarsen rock. Even his signature tag, a toothed pigeon, seemed to waddle right out of the stone. He stood on the altar in the centre of the circle, put his phone on a selfie stick and started recording…

“Stonehenge is a message-board. I’ve opened the chat room with the runes of summoning…” his voice faltered as a cool white light bathed the stones – he’d need to adjust his filters, hang on, the sunrise had been golden, definitely golden.

Adam looked up – Stonehenge had been roofed by a silver disc of light.

“Shit!” he said, “You came, I didn’t think you were real, not really.”

Image emotions appeared in his brain..

Affirmation. Happiness. Certainty.

“Great. Uh, what can you do? Peace on earth, free food for all graffiti artists?” He was babbling.

Rocks. Circles.

“Uhm, I think you might have trouble getting a building permit from the council nowadays.”

The image of a 25-ton monolith landing on the Town Hall filled his head.


Adam leaned against the altar stone. Maybe he hadn’t quite thought this through.

Impatient. Invitation.

The image was distant, as if they were talking so someone else. Adam looked around, he was alone, not even the habitual rabbits had ventured out into the cold winter morning.


Adam saw the image of the interior of spacecraft; mechanised creatures were walking and rolling along ramps and walkways that seem to have been designed for them.

Joy. Contentment. Choose.

The force of the thought drove Adam to his knees, but he still wasn’t certain that they were talking to him.


Adam felt the edges of wonder as his bike rattled into life,  wheels and pedals rotating as it propelled itself towards the waiting spacecraft.

“Hey, you can’t steal my bike! Give it back!”

The bike was briefly silhouetted against the bright disc of the rising sun. A hatch opened in the spacecraft’s flawless skin. Adam saw the outlines of two vintage Penny-Farthings waiting in the ship’s entrance. The three bikes hesitated a moment before the hatch closed. Adam could have sworn they waved at him.

Free. Thank you.

As the silver light faded, Adam lay back on the chilly altar stone and mused — Spielberg was so ahead of his time.


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