27 | Poetry by M. D. McDuff

A Visit from Space Stewards

‘Twas a full moon in November, on the bleakest of nights,
When an immense UFO sailed into my sights;
Exact specifications I can’t quite recall,
But compared to me, ‘twas at least 100 feet tall;
It came with clashing noises, so thunderous in the air,
Ethereal brightness hit my window with a glare;
With lights so vivid, and only blue in sight,
A beam shot down carrying figures of might.
My hands started shaking, my lip gave a quiver,
Dread crept down my spine with a cold, painful shiver;
The figures ambled past the bench and turned towards my door,
Then fear flooded my body straight to its core;
I quickly pondered their pernicious intent,
As the wind howled through dead tree limbs who shrieked of torment.
The looming silhouettes approached the moonlit path,
Speaking words that quickly called down my wrath:
“We are here for the creatures whose lives number nine,
They are small and ferocious, sometimes called feline.”
The words floated on the wind and I was taken aback,
Accidentally, I cried: “They’re here for my cat!”
A figure below paused, then tilted back its head;
They could see me all along, I realized with dread;
“Yes, the feline creatures called cats are why we are here,
We’re taking them all for our Master, we fear;
For it is from his strength that our power derives,
And he’s decided he may need more lives.”
I glanced at her bed and confirmed it was empty,
She must be downstairs, eating or playing in the pantry;
I rushed to the stairs, took to the banister like a ladder,
When the front door flew off its hinges with a clatter!
I sprinted to the kitchen to retrieve dear Tabby,
My typically fearless cat raced right at me.
A blue beam of light suddenly shined through the house,
Nothing could escape it, not even a mouse;
The light pulled us towards an unknown abyss,
When suddenly — I’m awoken by a hiss.
I look to Tabby’s bed, and sigh with relief:
She’s lazily stretching, not taken by a thief;
I look out the window and see just the moon’s gleam,
I lay back on my pillow, “it was only a dream!”
But I hear on the wind, the notes of disaster:
An alien’s threat, “we’ll be back with our Master.”

M. D. McDuff

M. D. McDuff (she/her), more commonly known as Dodger, lives in the mountains of Virginia with her husband, a hoard of cats, and one gecko. She loves coffee and cliff jumping, and is particularly partial to late-night adventures. An Aunt-Extraordinaire, when she’s not reading or writing, she can usually be found making mischief with her niblings.