Paintings

At night, if you gaze upward, the vastness of the universe may prove to be nearly incomprehensible. Billions of stars (including galaxies) gather, come alive, and present their unique beauty above us whether we’re preparing for a night out, laughing with our family during dinner, mourning a lost one while sulking in a shower, or simply rolling the covers back and preparing for bed.

Perhaps you’re on your back porch, boating dock, or out camping, and you take the time to stare up at the sky as the grand stage lights light up and present to you a work of wonder, a masterpiece of art, and a simple question—are we truly alone? The actual spatial size of the universe is unknown—and what inhabits it—is also unknown.

Jamestown, North Dakota—dead of winter—2:00AM—Monday the 5th

Snow coats the earth with a heavy blanket of white. It is undisturbed. The sky is clear. Stars have been peppered over the dark canvas—their light finally arriving since it began its journey thousands of light years ago.

The shape passes slowly but silently. It pauses, hovering over a neighborhood. A man walks outside—he can’t sleep. He lights a cigarette and looks up. The sky is black and vacant. No stars are above him. Strange—he says to himself. He takes another drag of his smoke and looks down to itch his leg. Then he takes another drag and looks back up. The sky is lit with as many stars as his eyes can see. Strange—he says to himself.

Building 5450—Dr. Redfield’s Office—Psychiatrist—4:00PM—Monday the 5th

Patient: Ms. Dianna Rines

Purpose of Visit: Undisclosed / Initial Consultation

“So, your file says you’re having trouble sleeping. Strange dreams.”

“They’re not dreams.”

Dr. Redfield jots down a note in a file.

“Not dreams?”

“No, well, I don’t think so. I feel awake.”

“So, we’re not sure if you’re dreaming. Let’s perhaps keep both possibilities open.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me what happens whether you’re dreaming or awake.”

“My clock radio turns on.”

“What station?”

“No station, it’s just static.”

“Have you tried adjusting it?”

“Yes. All the stations are the same.”

“Have you tried turning it off?”

“Yes. It turns off.”

“Interesting. Do you think it’s a faulty clock radio?”

“I don’t think so. It works fine during the day.”

“Why do you think it works differently during the day than at night?”

“Because it’s when they arrive.”

“Who is they?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are they people?”

“No. I don’t know.”

“Have they hurt you?”

“No.”

“Have you seen them?”

“No.”

“So you’ve only heard them.”

“Yes.”

“What do they do?”

“I don’t know. I hear them walk around in the hallways. They move things. They take things.”

“Do they talk?”

“No.”

“What things do they move?”

“They’ve moved all my electronics to the same area.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you moved them back?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“What things do they take?”

“My art.”

“You paint?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

“Thank you.”

“Why do you think they take your art?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you alerted the police of this situation?”

Ms. Rines looked over at Dr. Redfield. The air within the room was still. A car’s horn from a half-mile away honked somewhere outside. The air conditioning hummed faintly. The receptionist from down the hallway spoke on the phone. Ms. Rines looked out of the window from the chair she sat in.

“I can’t.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I think they would be upset.”

“Ms. Rines, do you believe you’re being visited by something, not of this world, or do you believe that you’re being burglarized?”

“I don’t know—I need to go.”

“You have fifteen more minutes left, Ms. Rines.”

“I have to paint another picture.”

“For them?”

“Yes.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

‘I don’t know.”

“Will you be back tomorrow, Ms. Rines?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Stay warm out there, Ms. Rines. The weather outside is frightful.”

Ms. Rines stood up and left the room. Dr. Redfield noted more in her files. He stood up from his chair and walked to the window. He looked up toward the sky. He saw nothing.

He returned to his personal office down the hallway, picked up the phone, and called the sheriff’s office.

“Good afternoon, this is Dr. Redfield from the Psychiatrist’s office up at Building 5450. May I speak to Sheriff Brown?

“Yes, doctor. Stand by.”

The sound of muffled voices and exchanging hands came across the line before Sheriff Brown answered.

“Afternoon, doctor. What can I help you with?”

“Sheriff, it’s not too much to ask. Will you please have a patrol car spend a few hours tonight outside one of my patient’s houses?”

“Sure, is there something we need to be aware of or conscious about?”

“No, sheriff, just a simple wellness check.”

“I’ll have someone posted there tonight for you, doctor.”

“Thank you, sheriff. Preferably after midnight.”

“There will be a unit there.”

“Thank you, sheriff.”

“You’re welcome, doctor. I’ll be sure to call you if, down the road, I need your expertise on anything, including myself.”

Dr. Redfield laughed. “I will look forward to seeing you then, sheriff.”

“Goodbye, doctor.”

“Goodbye, sheriff.”

Outside Ms. Rines's Home—Officer Lyle’s Police Cruiser—1:00AM—Tuesday the 6th

Lyle listened to the police radio transmissions. Nothing interesting was coming through. He left his book at home. Major mistake.

“Hey, Pepper. This is Lyle. Do you copy?”

“Yea, Lyle, I copy. Over.”

“Anything happening over there on the southside?”

“Nah,” Pepper responded. “Haven’t even seen those damn high schoolers sneaking out to have fun in the square over there.”

Lyle’s radio transmission unit popped and twirled. It cut in and out. Pepper’s communications began breaking. Lyle turned the tuner—the radio unit continued to falter—then his radio completely cut off.

Lyle sat still. He looked around. He noticed it was eerily dark outside—the streetlamps had been cut off. He stepped out of his cruiser. The cold hit him like a freight train. He looked up at Ms. Rines's house. It was dark. The power must be out, he thought. It’s too cold for even electricity to survive out here. He lit a cigarette. After a few drags, he looked up. The sky was black and vacant. No stars were above him. Strange—he said to himself.

Inside Ms. Rines's Home—1:05AM—Tuesday the 6th

They moved throughout the house. Maybe three. Maybe twenty. She didn’t know. She would know soon, though. She started to second-guess her decision. She had seen the police cruiser through the window an hour ago. She didn’t know how safe that made her feel (if it made her even feel safe at all).

They would see she didn’t have her artwork displayed as she had done the last couple of nights. They would wonder why. They would come to ask, wouldn’t they? It’s not because she didn’t paint anything. No, she painted her best work earlier that day. Something she had been proud of.

But—the painting was lying on her chest. She had her arms crossed around it. She heard one knock something over. It sounded mad. It knew. Now she would know soon. She waited. Silence fell. She heard nothing. Were they gone? She reached for the lamp to turn it on—but that’s when the closet door beside her bed swung open. She screamed.

Building 5450—Dr. Redfield’s Office—Psychiatrist—9:00AM—Tuesday the 6th

Patient: Officer Lyle

Purpose of Visit: Undisclosed / Initial Consultation / Special Statement

“So, the radio cut out?”

“Yes.”

“Then what?”

“The stars—they disappeared.”

“What do you mean, disappeared?”

“I don’t know.”

Dr. Redfield jotted down a note in his file.

“Then you investigated the scream?”

“Yes.”

“Ms. Rines wasn’t there?”

“No.”

“Have they found her?”

“I don’t know.”

Officer Lyle looked out of the window from the chair he sat in. He was still in uniform from the hours prior.

“I need to go,” Lyle said after a moment of silence.

“You still have fifteen more minutes left, Officer Lyle.”

“I know. I need to get back to the station. I’m only here because I wanted to give you my statement seeing it was your patient, which has disappeared.”

Dr. Redfield stood up. The two shook hands. “I appreciate your efforts, Officer.”

Lyle nodded and made his way to the office door. He stopped and turned.

“Have something else on your mind?” Dr. Redfield asked.

“The stars—”

“Yes, what about the stars?”

“They came back.”

“What do you think it means?”

“We’re not alone.”

Dr. Redfield nodded. “Sometimes I think the same thing.”

“Do you paint, doctor?”

Dr. Redfield smiled. “No, I’m just a collector.”

Before Officer Lyle left the room, he complimented Dr. Redfield’s paintings displayed across his walls.