Larriane Wills a.k.a. Larion Wills

Garrett is either in a coma, lost in crazy dreams or just plain crazy, locked in a padded cell living a delusion. Pig-like men don’t come out of thin air with a weapon that punches holes through flesh and bone. There is no such thing as a Thornn research vessel or giant bumble bees called yantz that produce an organic substance to replace missing flesh and bone, and there sure as hell isn’t really a Pegasus. Aliens of all shapes, sizes and colors don't gang up on you and try to kill you.   But damn if it didn’t all seem real as real as the constant pain he had lived with for twelve years. Did it even matter?  Real or insane delusion, Garrett knew he was in a fight for his life.

The pig-man dragged Garrett by his hair to the rock where he had sat moments before and propped him against it like a floppy, rag doll. The thing backed off and grunted while blunt, square-shaped hands dug through its fur covering to pull out a slim, narrow box. What looked to be no more than a spot of light shot out, and a rapid succession of grunts followed as the thing leaned down to lift Garrett’s arm for Garrett to see what he had done.

This can't be real, Garrett thought. He must be delirious, or in the grip of a nightmare. No spot of light could punch through flesh and bone leaving his arm hanging, bloodlessly, attached below the elbow on only a thin string of flesh. That was something straight out of Star Wars, and he wasn’t in any movie. It couldn’t be real. He had to wake up. Boss’s screams were real. They had fallen. That had to be what had happened. He was unconscious, and Boss was hurt. He had to wake up.

The thing stepped back, pointed the box, and a second spot of light shot out. The same succession of grunts sounded as it moved back. Garrett decided it had to be a sick laugh as the thing grabbed him by the hair and pushed his head down to see the bigger hole neatly punched through the right side of his chest.

He floated. There were sounds, soft and hushed, singing and soft whistles. Nothing disturbed him until the light came on.
           

“You can understand me?”

Garrett blinked against the bright blue light. He thought he was waking up in a hospital, and a nurse was talking to him. “The light is too bright,” he murmured weakly.

A hand moved to shadow his face. His eyes followed up a white shrouded arm to blue-violet eyes. “You can understand me?” she asked again.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

He understood what she said but nothing else. A patch of bright, blue light covered his body. There was only darkness beyond it and her.

“I must question you,” she told him. “Were you upon your beast of burden when you were attacked?”

She spoke English, and Garrett stared. Her words didn’t move with her mouth. It was as though he were watching a dubbed movie.

He answered in a weak whisper, confused and in shock. “I thought he was a man at first, not some kind of animal,”

“The Karoz is a male humanoid of a primitive race,” she told him crisply. “Were you upon your--?”

“Humanoid?” His characteristic sardonic smile twisted his lips even as weak as he was. “If I’m not delirious, I’ve got to be crazy.”

“Delirious is from fever of which you have none. However, your vessel of life is weak. The time of questions must be short. Were you upon your beast of burden when you were attacked?”

The question seemed important though Garrett couldn’t understand why any question, either in dream or craziness, would be. “No,” he said and closed his eyes. “I was on the ground when that ape thing came at us. Boss…”  His eyes popped back open. “Is Boss suffering?”

“Boss is your beast of burden?”

“Yes, is he suffering?” He struggled to get up, but the only thing he could move was his head.

“No, and do not exert yourself.”

He gave up, too dazed then to panic. “I could hear him screaming, but I couldn’t move. Can’t move…must have hit my head…damn I’m tired.”

“You are weak.”

Garrett gave her a slight smile and told her faintly, “Lady, if any of this was real, I’d be dying or dead.”

“Well this is. Also see what like I. Your custom it is, believe I, hands to grasp in greeting friendly. For a time pleasure forgo we must as alone the yayantz may the blue light enter without paralysis to some and pain to many. Their nervous system quite different is than of humanoid. Another answers this of your questions?”

“Kind of figured that,” he murmured.

Mystaleah chuckled deeply. “Much comprehend you, man called Garrett. Offense you have taken to an arrogant air, mocking to pretend ignorance. Successful you be. Weak of mind believes she you, but remember pretender are all, if pretend think they must be.”

“What does she pretend?”

“To one only refer I did not. A warning give I. What will see you and what hear you may not be as seems.” He lifted a hand to rub his eye, “Important most what feel you.”

Garrett got distracted. Mystaleah’s hand was long and slender with only two fingers and a thumb. He was not an oversized human as Garrett had assumed. His dream, Garrett thought, was definitely being influenced by his watching of too many episodes of Star Trek.

“Ah,” Mystaleah drew out slowly. He held his hand closer so Garrett could see it more clearly. “The form of my hand your feelings have altered?”

Garrett looked back into his eyes. “You’d make one hell of a basketball player.”

“Basketball? A brief description, please.”

“Two teams match up to see who can throw a ball through a high hoop the most.”

“A game, a sport, yes?”

“You’re speaking English!” Garrett exclaimed. That was why Midradina’s mouth hadn’t moved with her words. “That’s what she meant when she asked if I could understand her. What did she do, and how do you--?”

He didn’t finish. The blue light flashed across his head, freezing all movement. An instant later the yayantz hovered over him, closing his eyes. He could hear, but he couldn't do anything else.

“Excited you have I,” Mystaleah said softly. “Forbidden it is. Too delicate is your healing.” His robes rustled as he moved to his feet. “Later come I.”

What excited him wasn’t Mystaleah. Mystaleah had just warned him, told him what he saw and heard may not be what it seemed. Midradina had attached or implanted something to translate their language into his while not distorting other sounds. They had done something to him without his knowledge or permission. His life wasn’t his own, not even his own body. Something alien had been planted in him to devour him a cell at a time. He had no way of knowing if it was transforming itself to him or him to it. He only knew that while it was happening he was a prisoner.

The panic built until his sense of the ridiculous popped up. It was silly to get worked into a panic over something that wasn’t real. He promised himself that when the wild dream was finally over, he would never read another science fiction book or watch another science fiction movie. His fascination with both had to be the source of this crazy dream or— a new idea occurred to him— maybe he actually was crazy. Maybe the fear of what his real future held had pushed him over the edge, and he’d slipped into some kind of illusion to escape from it. Whether he was asleep, unconscious, or walking around mad as a Hatter, what was happening to him wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

It's a story that will delight readers of many genres including, but
not limited to, mystery, romance, war, and science fiction. I recommend
Looking Glass Portal as a fast and fun-loving read.

Alternative-Read.com: REVIEW: Looking Glass Portal ~ Larraine ...