Gavin Howard jumped out of bed the moment he heard the sound of the crash.

He’d been sleeping soundly, exhausted after a day of planting crops in the field behind his small farmhouse, when a loud boom shook the house down to its foundation and a blinding flash of light lit up the entire room.

Jerked from a pleasant dream involving two male belly dancers and a lot of whipped cream, Gavin opened his eyes as his befuddled brain struggled to catch up. Glancing at the clock, Gavin groaned when he saw the glowing red numbers read 2:17am. Lights shone from his backyard, just visible through his bedroom bay window. The red and orange flickering moved hypnotically and beautifully. It took a long moment before he realized what he saw.

Was that–? Holy shit, my backyard is on fire!

Before he even realized he had moved, Gavin jumped out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans over his half-hard cock, not bothering to do up the buttons completely. He grabbed his shotgun and charged down the stairs like a herd of buffalo were after him.

Before he even reached the kitchen and back door that lead outside, Gavin heard his old Blue Heeler, Bo, going wild, barking like a demon-possessed hound. The dog threw itself at the screen door again and again, blocking him from getting to the backyard and only quieting his howls to whimpering and whining when he spotted his beloved owner rushing into the room.

Gavin grabbed a flashlight from below the sink, patting Bo’s head as he went by.

“S’okay boy, I got it.” He opened the door, then turned back to push Bo back into the house when the mutt tried to slip between his legs. “Stay, Bo. Stay!” he commanded, not wanting to put his dog in danger until the backyard was safe. He shut the door, taking a deep breath to ready himself to face whatever had disturbed his sleep so violently.

Gavin turned, prepared to face the issue at hand.

And promptly dropped the flashlight he held.

“No way…” he muttered, staring in disbelief at the scene before him. He couldn’t reconcile what he saw with what his brain knew had to be possible. He looked around. Nope, no cameras or microphones anywhere to be seen. Bo still whined from inside the house. Gavin gave himself a little pinch on the leg with his one free hand and hissed at the sharp, bright pain blossoming on his leg. Well, he wasn’t dreaming, which meant what he was seeing had to be real.

The scene before him seemed impossible, unbelievable.

Gavin just stood there, stunned, gun hanging from limp hands, mouth hanging open.

What the hell is going on?

No way could there be a crashed spaceship sitting in the center of his cornfield.

Pulling together his now-tattered courage, Gavin reached down to pick up the fallen flashlight, and then carefully started to approach the smoking wreckage, gun ready to shoot at the smallest sign of movement. Times like this, he was glad his military training gave him enough experience to keep himself safe as he approached a possible danger zone. His eyes were trained on the sky, for what, he didn’t know–more ships maybe?

Because as much as he wanted to deny what he was seeing, there was no doubt about it; he was definitely looking at a large silver spaceship.

The ship didn’t seem to be much taller than his tractor but definitely appeared wider; at least twenty feet across in an almost disk shape. The smooth sides shone silver, with an iridescent sheen that probably served as camouflage while the ship flew. He’d seen a weak rendition of just that type of thing years before while he’d been on special assignment in the Marines. Although, what he saw back then didn’t even begin to compare to the stunning object before him.

The fallen ship gave off a thrumming feel, vibrating deep in his chest with a low hum, almost like when the next door neighbor played a bass guitar in his garage. Gavin could still remember those days from back when he lived on the base. He knew there was sound coming from the amplifiers, but it was too low for him to actually hear. He could feel the static energy and vibration on his skin, but no sound could be heard.

All of the sudden, Gavin realized that what he was seeing might be real. As a kid, he’d always been a comic book fan and loved the old Star Trek TV show. But never in his life could he have imagined something like this.

Hot damn! He had a real live flying saucer in his backyard.

When I dance now it is but an echo of what was. I use to be so carefree, my heart would soar with every leap, my soul expand with every leap.

But now she’s gone all I have a memories, memories that taunt me from afar like the whispered response of my own voice bouncing off walls. We were young, reckless and wild. She loved me and I loved her and no one really understood. They thought we were just very close friends, in our village the idea of two women being in love was just not one that jumped to mind.

Clara and I didn’t mind, though. We used their innocence to our advantage. I was glad that in our dance class there were more women than men and I never raced to partner one of the lads. Their movements were clumsy, their hands invasive. No, I always made sure I ended up in the arms of Clara.

“It’s a shame you weren’t born a man,” Mrs Shaw said on more than one occasion, “because you and Clara work so well together and you are the best man in the room, dear but don’t let the boys hear me say that.” “You’re better than a man,” My Clara would whisper as we lay together in the cornfield, her finger tickling my breast, “you are softer, gentler, sexier.”

We made love in the same manner we danced. With gay abandon. I don’t think it ever once crossed our minds that what we were doing was, in the eyes of many, wrong. We just did what came naturally to us. And it was natural, we fit together so well, we knew what it took to turn each other on, we spent many an hour searching for orgasms and finding them, lots of them.

We moved in together at twenty one. My Mother passed away and Clara invited me to live with her, for company. I needed her comfort and so agreed without second thought. It was the best decision of my life. We had so much fun in our home together. Fun in every single room, I especially enjoyed the huge bath that we’d share. The added sensuality of water always made me come hard. Cara liked to have me on the dining room table. She had a dominant streak and would love to bend me over, spank me until the sound echoed through the house and my mind.

But echoes are all I have now. Echoes of dances, clothed and unclothed. Echoes of love that keep me warm at night as I cuddle under my blanket and think of her.

She had a good innings, many people told me so, in the days up to her funeral. We had grown old together, we’d promised that we would. We could have grown older but she could not fight the cancer away any longer. She tried, she really tried and I helped her but in the end, she had to give in. Her last words to me were. “I love you.” She passed in her sleep, a mercifully quiet and painless passing. For that, I’m glad.

I’m alone, now, I’ve never been alone before. I don’t like it. I have the memories of my sweetheart to keep me warm, though and I will go on living for her, because of her.