A great orange ball of fire in the sky. It was a little after midnight in the English countryside; just a small village where nothing happened. I’d been drinking and I’d been talked into walking a girl my age home, the long way round.
There we stood, drunk, on the lane near the church in the dark. She was going to get her brains fucked out – that’s what she’d told me earlier anyway. She’d picked me for the job and at first I was going to help her out, but we’d continued drinking and now all I wanted was to be the only one who crawled into my bed. She was pawing at me in the warm night. I saw the orange light high up above us. It was behind her as her face got closer and her hand went down to my groin. I stopped her and pointed up at it.
“Probably the Steelworks,” she said. “Come on… screw me.”
I pushed her gently away and kept looking up at the thing in the sky. The Steelworks were at least ten miles from us, but nothing they ever did sent a ball of bright orange light up into the apex of the night, right above us, kind of moving left, right, bobbing around up there like it was floating on a calm sea. “What is that fucking thing?”
“It doesn’t matter, baby,” she reached for my trousers again. I moved her hand away. The orange light was burning now, fierce, maybe growing in size, kind of like it was heading straight towards us. I thought it could be a flare, perhaps. But then, wouldn’t it be dropping to earth? Shit, I was too drunk to think. Plus the girl was proving tough to handle, groping at me and trying to lick my face and get her tongue in my mouth. I got her to walk on down the lane towards the lights of the road. Near the bottom of the hill I turned around again. Yeah, the light was still up there. We watched it for a minute more, then it wobbled like a spinning top and zipped off across the sky, getting smaller quickly and vanishing upwards, outwards, away from Earth.
She wasn’t interested. She was trying every trick she knew to get us to fuck. I didn’t need sex, or her, I needed acid or a good sleep. I kissed her goodbye on the cheek and made sure she took the right road back to her house, then I walked home. What was it up there? Aliens? In bed, I thought about the meaning of it all. We were eighteen. We knew less about human life than any being from outer space. All I knew was how to get out of my head. The rest was just details. She’d had plans, but I’d ruined them. If Aliens had come to watch the show, I disappointed them too, even drunk, dumb, full of cum and the yahoo of youth.
I asked around but no-one else had seen anything weird that night, though they all wanted to know how she’d been in the sack. I had a harder time convincing my friends that I hadn’t fucked her than getting them to understand I’d seen a UFO. Sex sold faster than Aliens back then.
Thinking back I can see the orange light in my mind even now: bright, kind of watching, utterly out of place high up above the church. I never saw anything like it again. And, despite a few more of her attempts, I never did give her what she wanted. Almost all of my friends did though. It was that kind of a backwoods place.
What if it really had been a UFO that night, studying the two of us, travelled millions of light years to see the beauty of the Human race. All they got were two stumbling drunks, one of them highly sexed, both confused, going through a mating ritual that didn’t go anywhere. I know why they left – they had seen enough of Humans. They gave up on us. We’d been filed away in a small drawer somewhere under the heading: Waste of time….Destroy. That, or they returned each Saturday night like Peep show voyeurs to the lane by the Church to watch the show all over again – each time to completion – starring her and some other poor sap too drunk to take his gaze from her ass in the starlight. A simple act of faith in hormonal drive; our reason, ultimately, for being.