The night started hot like every other December night, sluggishly shrugging off the heat of the Harmattan day that’d come before, but the star watchers that had come to the hill behind Edm were all too excited to care.
365 days was a long time to wait for a light show and the Geminid was worth it. Games, jokes, food, hours of contemplative music, and dancing around the campfire made the discomfort barely weigh on their minds.
Someone started to sing, another told a story– and a few even rubbed noses with strangers. After all, there was no better place to sow the seed of love than on a barren hilltop on a starry night.
Heavily libated and swaddled in their cardigans and hoodies, they were well-prepared to scream their faces off. If the old star watchers' words and the broadcast were anything to go by, it got fairly loud when the first of the meteors came. They’d claimed the starry masses would’ve compelled them to. They also said it would get colder, but they were sweating.
Everyone was down to their last layer when the first shriek came. It announced the arrival of the first meteor, and it traced a brilliant streak across a tiny stretch of inky sky and disappeared as suddenly as it came.
Two shrieks followed the first, neither as energetic. They’d missed their chance, but the older star watcher assured them they’d be more.
And there were more. More meteors than any of them could count, more than the old star watchers had seen the years before, so much that they’d all gone silent, tired from the shouting and pointing. They stared on instead, basking in the astral light show, while they baked on rock.
It was the show of their lifetime, some reckoned. The night had turned to flickering day, each meteor burning brighter and closer than the last. All the stars in the sky had all but vanished, replaced by fleeting meteors.
“Omo,” One voice quietly said.
“What do you think is going on?” a second voice said to the first.
“Rapture,” the first voice cracked a laugh, and a few others joined him.
“I need to post this on my IG story,” a quiet one said, delighting at the site. Several discussions rose and died, all around the sky, none of them serious. There was something unnerving about watching the sky break. It robbed them of fear, yet choked them with. A few raised voices about leaving the hilltop, but no one made a move.
It was just before midnight something changed. A meteor stood out in the sky, flying faster and lower than the thousands that had come before. The wilderness burned white as it blazed a furious trail, tracing a brilliant arc towards them.
“Guys...” someone in the corner started with a shaky voice. “It’s almost as if…”
“It’s almost as if that meteor is coming for us o,” another completed.
There was a moment of quiet before panic poured forth like a wave.
“You dey whine ni?”
“That’s impossible.”
“Google said that the Geminid meteor shower originates from an asteroid and orbits the sun. There is nothing about it coming to earth.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“What if Google is inaccurate…”
“I think we should start going o,”
“What are you people even talking about?”
Their discordant voices melded into an inaudible jumble, and the meteor slipped closer while they bickered. Only when they felt the sweltering heat tear at their skin and their throat turn raw had they realized how close it’d gotten. It hurt just to look at it but there so they screwed their eyes shut and huddled close, shivering despite the heat, waiting on their end.
The crash never came. The hilltop did not explode in a violent crack of burning rock and ash, neither did the temperature steam down to their bones and ground it to ash. It’d dropped, just like the old star watchers said it would. The hilltop had turned chilly and they all longed for their blankets, but none of them dared to open their eyes. They were afraid of what they’d see. Had the meteor missed them? Or perhaps they were dead but didn’t know it yet.
One of them gathered courage enough to look, eventually. He was cold, and in his panic, left his phone on his blanket. It was a Monday, and he had work emails to send. The campfire had gone out when he opened his eyes, and no more meteors arced across the night sky.
The moon was the brightest source of light, but he found a second, warmer source just by the scruff of the hill, where he’d laid his blanket and things. He followed the light source, and he saw it. A creature of warm white and star stuff. It was humanoid with a head and limbs and fingers, but it was otherwise featureless– no nose or eyes or mouth. Its chin was arched up and seemed to be regarding the moon until its head snapped low, and its face bore at him.
He stumbled back wordlessly, crashing into the rest of the group, and they opened their eyes all and looked at it. A few screamed, others fled, or at least they tried to. Its voice gripped them when it spoke. It sounded warm like the light and star stuff it was made of.
“You are humans? Yes,” it said. It’d floated closer and inclined its head as if to get a closer look.
“Y...Yes,” an old star watcher in the front stammered out.
Its face lit up. “It would seem I have not made this journey in vain,” It thrilled. “I’ve been tasked to destroy your planet, earth, you see– some business about you all being a narcissistic and wasteful lot– but the journey has been long, and navigating through space takes a dreadfully long time. I’d simply forgotten if it was the second or third planet from the sun when I arrived in your solar system.”
The Old and new star watchers blanched, and a few in the back shoved the speaker further to the fore, urging him to speak on. He pushed back against the tide of arms, but they shoved him even closer.
“Um...I am sorry for your discomfort,” he said rather awkwardly. “I can’t imagine how long it’s been since you last spoken to someone.”
The creature observed him for a quiet moment before it responded, sounding rather chipper. “Why thank you. You can’t imagine how long it’s been since I’ve last shared a conversation. Although, now that I am here, I’ll have to complete my task and set out again. It gets very lonely in the expanse of space.”
“What if you didn’t have to leave so quickly?” the star watcher urged
The creature seemed to blink at him without eyes. “Delay my mission? I’d rather not...you cannot delay matters such as planetary extermination.”
“You won’t be bored,” he said as his eyes desperately search the hilltop. It fixed on the abandoned fire they’d all gathered around before the first of the shower came. “We could tell you stories,” he said. “Campfire stories. Stories interesting enough to carry you on your trip back and beyond.”
“Stories, you say.” The creature of celestial light rubbed its chin in thought. Its eyes panned the rocky top, taking each of the star watchers in. “I suppose I can wait,” it announced as it slowly descended from the sky. It flew close, crossed its leg, and hovered by the dead campfire. The site of seemed to displease it, so with a snap of its fingers, it set it alight with no wood or fire
“Tell me your stories,” it said to the star watcher, and he joined it to sit. His entire body trembled and he cleared his throat two times too many before he began to speak.
The night started out hot like every other December night, sluggishly shirking off the heat of the Harmattan day that’d come before, but the star watchers that had come to the hill behind Edm were all too excited to care.