The strange spaceship

Tom's first idea was to run to his dad due to the chills that had already gotten up his spine. But he got another instinct and decided to stay back and not run away like a baby. His mind flashed back to the first time something similar occurred, and when he got his dad, the strange thing had already gotten away. That made him a little creeped out, and also, he wouldn't want to disturb Dad. He can still remember the expression Dad wore the last time.

I am staying put, and I must find out what this is.

Whatever it was that was moving around in his closet wasn't that big and it had to have a reasonable explanation. Maybe it was just a squirrel that had chewed a hole through the wall—too small for them to have noticed that night when he and his dad searched the room.

What about the whrring sound? The metallic soft thud? The sparking sound? he thought. He told himself that maybe the squirrel had mistakenly chewed his mum's hair dryer, but then he realised that he was one step away from a mental hospital for talking to himself like this and telling jokes at that.

"Just go and check it out," he told himself sternly. He reached up to his table lamp, keeping his eyes riveted on the closet, and flicked on the lamp. The warm glow banished the dark shadows, illuminating fully the walls of the room with its wallpaper neatly pasted on them.

Encouraged and braver with the light on, Tom swung his legs around and stood up from the bed, hoping that the closet door wouldn't burst open when he did so. Nothing moved. The sound has completely stopped.

Maybe I just imagined it. I haven't heard it since it woke me up .

With all his thoughts, Tom couldn't convince himself. A slice of fear cut through his heart, making it pound faster and harder, sending a pulse of heat through his veins. His hands were sweaty and his shoulders and back tingled, making him remember what Silver Head had said about the bulgy alien eye he'd seen in the alleyway. The death sleep's appearance was quite different, and Tom had not expected to see anyone in his closet.

No, this is something different.

He crept over to the door with tip-toe steps, staring at the thin silver line of space between the floor and the bottom of the door. If anything did shoot out from the crack, Tom knew he would just die of a heart attack on that spot. He stopped a couple of steps away from the door and paused, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Lorena would give that annoying laugh if she were here.

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat. The thought of Lorena gave him more ignitability to go forward. I am no sissy, I am Tom!

He reached forward and twisted the door handle, knowing his dad had done the exact same thing just over a week ago, remembering that there had been nothing there then.

He pulled the door and stepped back. Something odd was floating over the piles of dirty clothes. Something Tom had never seen in real life before

                               ~

Mr. Noland is a time keeper whenever it comes down during the night and sleeping hours. He had this little alarm of his that beeps, and it's very annoying. But it helps to wake Mr. Noland up much more easily than any other sound. The beeping sound would pierce into his ear and beat on his eardrums like a mosquito. He usually does this whenever he wants to work on some reports about his job. His wife was so grateful to have a husband like him who always finishes every report they have to submit. She always has stuff to do, especially when it comes to taking care of the home and the kids. She found all of them so stressful that she couldn't move an inch at night but snore away her day stress.

This time, Mr. Noland is up again to do his normal routine of completing the report from their last visit to India before they could move away from Deer Park to Sweville.

After shutting off the beeping alarm, Mr. Noland stared at his wife and wondered how the alarm didn't affect her but him. He wondered if he was different from every other living being.

"Stop saying stupid things," he thought to himself. He realized he was about to behave like Tom, who said garbage like this when he was a little boy.

Suddenly, he heard a creak, a slight creak of someone walking around the house. He pushed himself up onto one elbow and looked at the door to his room, which slightly stood ajar. He guessed, judging from the angle of the shadows caused by the light and the direction from which the sound had come, that Tom had gotten out of the bed for some reason.

"What is he up to?" Mr. Noland checked his watch—five minutes until morning?

He flopped down onto his side, then rolled his big body onto his back, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he stared at the ceiling. Then, with some grumbling, he threw off the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed, searching for his slippers with his toes.

He found them, put them on, and stood up.

                                            ~

Tom's mind split into two factions as he looked at the object. One side of him wanted to run because nothing normal would magically appear in his closet. The other side wanted him to investigate. It's something he loves anyway, something he'd wish he could see one day, but not in his closet like this. The latter won the battle, his curiosity once again victorious over common sense.

He stepped closer and dropped to his knees, leaning forward.

It was a medium-sized UFO, just like he guessed. A ship from space, looking like a toy but somewhat realistic like the ones he sees on television, about a foot wide, a large circle cuts the middle of the upper part and the lower part, just like the planet of Saturn. Its shiny gray surface had no blemishes, sparkling and neat. A four-foot-long metal stick supported the ship on each side, allowing it to balance on the pile of clothes. They were almost transparent. You would think that they were floating, which would look crazy, but that's what Tom would want to see—the crazy stuff.

Tom's first thought, as he was admiring the little space ship, was Star Wars.

Are they really that small in Earth's dimension? Maybe I'd get to play the villain... the big boss. Tom couldn't believe he was getting comfortable with the stuff in his closet and, on top of that, telling stupid jokes. Not very long, Tom noticed, as he noticed writing on the side of the box, shadowed by light coming from the room. He shifted his position closer and squinted his eyes. It took a few seconds, but he finally made out what it said:

MARTIAN GNOMES

manufactured by Tomikins Industries.

What the hell is going on?

Something strange struck Tom as he stared at the name again. Tomikins,... Tom—

Tom began to doubt himself. He had nothing to do with this. Was he dreaming? Is there another him from elsewhere? There's no other person that answers the name Tom, not anywhere he has been. It had to be a coincidence.

But, maybe another me from elsewhere is nick-named Tomikins.