Fiction: Flying saucers

Once again the old dishes were flying around the kitchen making a mess. Eric couldn't stand this situation any longer. He needed to know what was the mystery behind this nightly mess.

The next day Eric went to visit a priest and told him about the problem.
"Good morning, son, come into my humble abode," the priest invited him cordially and with a gesture of gentleness.

"Good morning, Father, I have come to you because I have a problem with paranormal activity in my house. I would like to know if you can help me." He spoke to him while his hands showed uncontainable anxiety.

"My dear son, I am here for whatever I can do. Give me your home address so I can come and see what's going on," Eric took a crumpled, yellowed piece of paper from the priest's desk, wrote down the address for him. After shaking his hands with a firm grip, Eric said goodbye until the new day.

The night came reflecting the fear on Eric's face, on his whitish forehead with some liver spots, sweat was running drawing the terror of what was soon to come. The hour was approaching and Eric was a bundle of strident nerves. Pots began to dance in the kitchen, and the frantic sound of metal clanging against the colorful tile-covered walls made Eric clutch his head and begin to pray.

She couldn't take it anymore and screamed so loudly that the windows seemed to shake. "Enoughhhh...!" Eric's voice cracked on the last syllable, suddenly the pot dance stopped and silence invaded the old house full of stories. Eric opened those Chinese eyes he had inherited from his mother, clouded with the wetness of tears, took another deep breath and calmly plunged into the worry of the coming night.

The mess was evident after that frenzy of dishes flying around the kitchen. Eric entered the dark kitchen and with a rhythmic shudder fumbled with the switch, worn and with traces of grease adhering due to many years of food preparation, the bluish light came on in a single beat of electricity and illuminated the place, showing the apocalypse of utensils scattered all over the floor.

As he inspected the place more closely he noticed something, which left him cold and on the verge of collapse, at that precise moment a pot was flying towards Eric and a voice from beyond the grave said, "sonnnn!" In panic, Eric turned his gaze and the metal hit his emaciated face head-on. He lost consciousness and plunged into darkness.

The next morning, Eric awoke, his eyes trying to focus through the cloudiness of the mental reboot. He ran his rough hands over his eyes and the picture became clear. Puzzled, he saw that everything was in order and no trace of the chaos of the night remained.

Eric tried to reflect on what had happened and, at the precise instant, three strong and sure touches instinctively made the disturbed man jump. He turned around with some anger and curiosity. "Who.... who... is...?" Eric's voice denoted a panicked stutter.

"It's me, son, the priest you went to see yesterday," he spoke confidently, but quite peacefully.

Eric was hurrying towards the door and almost with the strength of a hopeless man, he opened the door sloppily. "Go on, Father, I need your immediate help," Eric was saying with an uneasy expression on his face that worried the priest.

"Thank you son, tell me what's going on, I don't like the look on your face".

"I'm certainly terrified by the paranormal activity going on in my house and I don't know what it's due to," explained Eric to the priest as the trembling of his hands shook the cup of freshly brewed coffee.

The priest began to check the whole house and especially the kitchen. Eric would approach the priest and show him what he found on the floor the night before. The priest looked at the picture and asked him, "who is she?"

"She is my late mother, a year ago she died of cancer. I found this photo and it makes me very uneasy," Eric explained to the priest staring into his big brown eyes.

The father decided to stay in the house to witness what Eric told him so overwhelmed. By evening the two men were ready to face what could be the strange paranormal event. The expected hour arrived. Nothing happened, Eric looked at the priest in amazement, the two men in common gestural agreement decided to enter the kitchen.

They turned on the light. The priest turned to look at Eric "Nothing is happening, so..." Immediately the pots began to dance, the cutlery and plates were flying all over the place. The desperate priest began to pray with bible in hand, Eric screamed and covered his head with his arms.

Everything was in chaos in the place, the priest took the holy water and began to pronounce a prayer in Latin, his lips moving to the swaying of the phrases, while a cataclysm of utensils flying in clatter happened all over the kitchen. The priest was calling out to Eric who was in his position of denial and isolation of the moment. "Sonnnnn... You have to help me with this...!"

Eric took courage and quickly got up to where the father was, together they said the prayers and with the sprinkler they made the holy water dance all over the place. Suddenly a specter appeared before them, the two men were stunned by what they were seeing and did not utter a word. Then in a voice from beyond the grave the specter said, "how many times have I told you to put the dishes in order".

Eric took the holy water and sprinkled the specter who slowly disappeared in the middle of the night. Eric looked at the priest mischievously and sketched a few words,"my saintly mother was a neat freak, apparently not even in the next world can she give up that obsession".

Eric then laughed loudly, infecting the priest with his laughter. Both men looked at each other and after a moment a plate flew. Eric and the priest ran out of the kitchen in fear.

The end

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_{Sources of the cover image Source 1 Source 2 Source 3 Edited by Rincón Poético.}

Text authored by:
Camilo Torres
DRA

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