Hatless. Two antennae poking from a gaseous head. A body of spent molecules. This being moves like a dead flower. ‘Come a little closer,’ the alien says in its voice of shattering ivory pipes.
You take a couple steps toward the voice. You see many birds on their shirt. Are they moving? Flapping? Yes, those wings are rustling ever so slightly. One bird speaks with a creaking lilt:
‘Wuzzzzzzupppp?’ it asks.
You look up into the alien’s eyes, dumbfounded. There are no pupils behind their shades. There are no eyes at all behind the dark lenses.
‘…a sudden movement of the head like a bird who understands nothing of what we hear, who hears what we do not understand,’