There was something wrong. He had felt it when he emerged from the bath this morning, and now he was leaking. He tried to change form, but was unable to do that. He knew what was happening, but didn’t want to believe it. He wasn’t even 500 years old, and his fellow Althusians normally lived for thousands of years. Perhaps he could stop it somehow, but he was so tired. He sat down, but not before he had collected a towel to try and stop the leakage coming out of his fingers. He tried to call for help, but found that his voice had gone. He wasn’t really surprised as it had taken him so long to master the vocalisations of the humans. They had just thought he originated from another country, and English was a second language to him. Little did they know.
He lived in this flat to keep a low profile, and had largely tried to stick with the human form, although occasionally he was tempted to fly out of the window, and soar up into the blue sky they had on this planet. Everything was just so beautiful. He had loved living amongst the humans, the ordinary people, and the only time he changed form was when he was regenerating overnight in the bath he used to hold his natural gelatinous form. Maybe he could try returning to the bath, but he found it impossible to do. It only resulted in more leaking from his fingers.
Perhaps he was dying because he had not been true to his nature, living in the same form for so long, but he didn’t regret it, if that was the case. He had tried many forms on this planet, but only in the human form did he feel the flood of emotions coursing through his veins. It was what had kept him here. There were so many things to experience and learn about.
He thought of his parents, his siblings, not knowing where he had gone. He should have told them what he had in mind, but then it was too late. His ship had gone way off course and had crashed into one of the earth’s oceans. At first, he had thought the entire world here consisted of ocean, but when he swam to the surface as a fish, changing to a bird just before reaching the open air, and taking to the sky, he soon saw how wrong he had been.
He no longer fitted inside his clothes, and there was quite a puddle on the floor. He tried to draw it back into himself, but the part of him there, could not move. He was very tired.
A few weeks later, Rosa emerged from her flat, thinking that there was a terrible smell on the landing. She wondered what it was as she started descending the stairs. She had noticed it earlier in the week, but hadn’t paid much attention, thinking that someone was burning something in their back garden. This time, it was quite overwhelming, but it was diminishing as she was going downstairs. That made her turn around and return to the landing. She knew now, or at least, she suspected. She hadn’t seen Mr Fowler, John, for a few weeks now. She banged on the door, hoping she was wrong, but when she got no answer, she started to cry. He was a nice old man, kept himself to himself, very quiet. She phoned 999, and explained. She asked for both an ambulance and the police because she knew. He had gone for sure. Such a shame.
A policeman was standing on her doorstep when Rosa opened the door to the knocking. She had heard all the movement after they had smashed their way into John’s flat. She didn’t want to see what they saw, so she had busied herself making herself a nice cup of Earl Grey.
The policeman was talking to her, she realised.
“He wasn’t there”, he said. “Just a soaking pile of buttoned-up clothes on a chair, with a puddle of foul smelling jelly-like liquid beneath. That might be what you had smelled. A right old mystery. If you see him coming and going in the coming days, please tell him to get in touch.” She nodded, and closed the door behind him as he walked away. She started to cry again. She still felt there was something wrong.
Fraser