I've not listened all that closely to alien abduction stories in the past because of course they were never real, and even if they were they'd never apply to me.

But even so, there's just so many of them I've picked up a few things.

None of those things mean that whatever is waiting for me at the end of the hall is anything good. And nothing that I've experienced personally here is in any way reassuring.

Even though we were together a moment ago, as I walk through this hallway I don't see or hear Mia in this place with me. I don't see that guy, either.

In fact...

I don't even see that thing which grabbed my arm.

As far as any of my senses are telling me...

I'm alone in here.

But...

I just keep moving forward.

Where else am I to go but forward?

It's hard to tell how long I've been walking, but I keep on walking toward the end of the hallway anyway.

Eventually, I find myself standing in front of the door at the end.

The door this time is different from the others. Not simply a piece of wall slid out of the way but something sturdy looking and what I expect to see on some kind of spaceship.

Beyond is darkness, like every other room I've been in since that first one.

A large, cold hand suddenly contacts with the back of my shoulder and I'm propelled violently inside the darkness.

The door slams shut behind me.

Before I can even start to adjust to the darkness I've been thrust into again, the far wall shifts and opens.

Panic wells up inside me as I glimpse stars-...

But I'm not ejected into space.

Instead, I've been given a small, single room with a view.

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The smooth ground beneath me lurches violently enough that I slam into the wall with my shoulder, wincing at the jolt of pain from it, and then...

My room with a view detaches.

...This is...

Some kind of ejection capsule?

Then that must mean. I'm going home.

Relief floods through me so much that it gets overrun by giddiness, and it takes everything in me not to break out into ridiculous peals of laughter.

This might just be...some kind of a psychotic break. And if it isn't, no one will believe me that it isn't.

But it doesn't matter.

Because it's over.

It was terrifying as an experience, but here I am, I've survived, and it wasn't even that bad in the end.

The stars through the glass rotate and turn as my capsule - or whatever it is - spins through space.

When the view turns toward the planet I'm approaching, or rather falling toward, my giddiness sinks into a heavy lead feeling in the pit of my gut.

The planet in my view has no water on it.

At least...not anything on the hemisphere facing my window.

I also can't see any green at all. Only red, orange, and yellow everywhere.

I'm no expert on geography, but I know what Earth doesn't look like, and this is...

Not Earth.

It's not even one of the familiar planets I've learned, drilled into my memory over years of 'squint at tiny discs through a lens' field trips and computer generated 'tours' of our neighboring planets.

Not like I'd know the first thing about how to build a space ship and get back but - who knows. Maybe someone could mount a rescue if enough humans got dumped in our solar system somewhere.

But.

This isn't even my solar system.

I'm hurtling to a strange planet with nothing green on it in a completely different part of the galaxy in a one-person container, free-falling.

My little 'room' continues to spin, and through it I finally learn what it must look like outside: little black spheres are falling toward this planet just like I am, scattered like pieces of bread tossed onto a lake for ducks.

...I wonder if I'll ever see a duck again?

What a strange thing.

I've never even thought about the idea that one day I might never see another duck again.

That some day - I don't remember when now - was going to be the last day I ever saw a duck in my life.

Fire blots out my view of anything else as my personal sphere hits the atmosphere of this place.

Maybe I should be happy that there is an atmosphere at all.

I sink to the hard floor beneath me, tucking up my knees to my chin.

When I close my eyes, it feels like I'm just sitting on some...smooth metal surface. Maybe a machine workshop. It doesn't feel like I'm moving. Not like I'm spinning, not like I'm falling.

But the flickering of the fire at the windows dances and plays in light and shadow against my closed eyes.

It doesn't feel hot in here.

I don't hear the wind or the fire.

So maybe this really is just some cruel prank, and I'm sitting in a small little room or box, with some top of the line 16k TV monitor in the place of windows.

Maybe I'll just keep my eyes closed until I'm proven right.

A rush of oppressively hot air blasts cross my face without warning, and rough, lumpy hands grip my shirt collar much too harshly. A sharp jerk yanks me forward and ruins the collar of my shirt in the same movement. When I stumble to my feet, it's only instinctive that I open my eyes to stop myself from falling on my face.

Pulled out of that capsule as I am, the dry heat of this place hits me so hard it takes my breath away, and I gasp like a fish stolen from water as I struggle to regain my breath.

A few other people stand near me, looking as dazed and out of it as I feel.

The one with a death grip on my collar is a yellow-orange, stocky looking bald man.