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Warning: Slight angst, nothing else. Discalimer: The characters within this story are all the creations of my own over-active imagination. Any resemblence they bare therin to any real people is purely coincidental. by Joana Rodriguez a.k.a Lady Dragon The alien and clinical sounding voice resounds in the room I’m in once again. The bored tone evident as it calls out: "paging Doctor Shepherd, Paging Doctor Shepherd". Its tone reveals nothing but sheer boredom, not even its sex is evident to the listener. Perhaps it’s not even a human’s voice, merely a machine? There is a whoosh and the vacuum tight sealed doors slide open to admit another examiner into my sterile hell of a prison. An antiseptic smell permeates the air, beneath it the coppery scent of blood both fresh and old, as well as the lingering odor of decay. Above all this is a sweet and flowery scent – Clorox Floral Fresh. One of the examiner’s apprentices mopped the floor with it this morning (or was it late last night?) in an obvious attempt to mask the less pleasant fragrances of this cell. All they accomplished was the creation of a sickeningly sweet consolidation of flowers, death, and decay. The place smells of a rotting corpse at an open casket funeral shrouded in flowers. It’s enough to turn an undertaker’s stomach. It would have turned mine. Bright florescent lights shine down where I lie providing an artificial warmth which is quickly diminished by the chill of the metallic surface beneath me. Out of the corner of my eye I see the flash of light reflecting off a metallic surface. A blade. Above me deep voices rumble in scientific phrases and analogies, all of which are beyond my comprehension in my heightened state of agitation and fear. I know that in mere moments I will feel the blade’s sharp edge slice through my unyielding flesh. I will lie paralyzed beneath its song of violence and carnage as it dances across my skin with no resistance on my part what so ever. The unseen hands will descend upon me once again with the clinical detachment and interest shown me yesterday as they arrange my limbs and organelles just so in order to reach places that no hands should ever be; all the while murmuring nonstop above me their findings to one another as one of the fiends takes down the minuets of the examination. Organs and tissues fingered and prodding, some removed and dipped into formaldehyde for preservation and further observation at a later time. Sections of my own body sliced open (as was my kidney yesterday) for further examination and samples removed so comparisons to be made. My mind reels as I hear the sound of what can only be an electric saw of some sort. I cringe in stark terror as my fears are confirmed and the object of my speculation is brought before my very eyes in an ominous descent. All this I bear in silent protestation. Despite my numerous mental commands my limbs, my vocal chords; all remain immobile. What is happening to me I wonder. How did I get here? I can not fathom an answer. One moment I was on a mission for my nation, to locate and observe new species and various life forms on planets similar in creation to our own in a neighboring galaxy. We had been studying the creatures of this new planet for many eons now and never once had we encountered any troubles. Yet a new species had formed, ones calling themselves Homo sapiens and they were a target of interest to us. Their technology and ways are primitive, and so we watched their struggle for survival and dominance of their planet. I had been one of the explorers studying these creatures for near millennia now. I had taken on their form, their way of life and attempted to live amongst them – never had I experienced any difficulties. Yet on the day of my departure something went amiss, what I cannot say. I cannot even hazard a guess as to the rest of my crew. One moment we were geared for take off and the next I awoke here in this place that can only be called a morgue. Silent, invisible tears trickle down my face as another part of me, this time my heart, is removed and set upon a shelf along side my intestines which were removed yesterday. Still they continue to speak and further their research. Still I continue to breathe, to live all without the necessary organs to do so. It is apparent they think me dead, and well I should be, yet here I am bearing silent witness to the atrocities being done to me and perhaps someday soon my kind. No longer are we the dominant species of the universe, we are now just another race fighting to survive. The primitive ones have grown and matured and soon there will be no place safe from them. Tomorrow has arrived, and we are now the ones being studied. Its Halloween time and so I thought I'd write a lil thriller meant to sent chills down your spine. Initially "The Autopsy" was supposed to play on the fear that we might someday get burried alive or have an autopsy performed on us while we are still alive, but then the story took a Sci-Fi twist and we end up with an alien autopsy. Does this have anything to do with the Roswell incident? Or is an event taking place at another time and place? That is totally up to the reader to decide Please Leave a Review
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