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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/sunshine_dreaming on 2023-07-02 15:58:29+00:00.
I thought moving to the country would be a good thing. Less stress, less problems. Less crime.
But I don’t feel safe out here. Not now.
Being isolated feels like a mistake. A huge, massive, mistake.
I thought I would love it. All the peace and quiet. And I did. Except now my husband isn’t.. Well he doesn’t seem like himself.
And I’m completely cut off from everyone.
We bought this farm sight unseen during covid. We were those people. Five acres of prime midwest farmland, flat, open, and hot, with topsoil twelve inches deep- perfect for a little homestead. There was a quaint farmhouse to boot, with a front porch perfect for rocking chairs.
My mom thought we were crazy. “I don’t know why you want to be so far from us,” she spat at me one day as we boxed things up at our old house.
“Darren knows what he’s doing. We’re going to be fine.”
“You don’t know anything about farming. You won’t last a week.”
But she was wrong.
We’d set out a huge garden, bought some chickens, and settled into our new community. And unlike many of the “sight unseen” home purchase horror stories you hear about, our farmhouse, while small, was darling in person.
Everything had been going great. Until last night.
I was reading in bed when Darren suddenly sat up.
“I think I left the back gate open.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.”
He got out of bed and slipped on some shoes. “I’m gonna go check.”
I kept reading and I guess I lost track of time. When I looked at the clock, almost 20 minutes had passed. He should have been back already.
I marked my page and got up. I peeked out the window but couldn’t see anything. I cursed Darren under my breath for not installing the motion sensor light over our garage barn. It was pitch black out there.
That’s one thing they don’t tell you about living in the country. The nights are dark. Pitch black, and the only light around is your own- and the stars.
Grumbling, I slipped on my rubber boots by the back door and turned on the porch light. He’d probably just gotten off track looking at all the stuff we needed to fix. There was plenty of that around.
I slipped outside. The cool summer air smelled of cut hay and buzzed with insects, and my boots crunched on the loose gravel.
I thought for sure he would be in the barn- but he wasn’t. The lights were off in there too.
That’s when I noticed a soft light coming from our front field- right behind the barn. I walked to the edge of the building for a better look.
When I turned the corner light blasted my face, so bright I had to shield my eyes with my hand. Confused, I tried to blink them open.
What I saw made me recoil. I stepped back into the shadows, my heart pounding. A bead of sweat ran down my forehead and I wiped it away with a finger.
I know what I saw. It was a spaceship, and it was illuminating Darren, who stood frozen in the pasture.
I crept to the corner, crouched and shaking. I peeked again.There it was. A fucking spaceship.
Darren was now floating skyward, illuminated by a beam of incredible light.
“Oh god,” I choked out. A sob escaped my lips.
I hate to admit it. I wasn’t brave. I didn’t try to help him. Instead, I turned on my heels, and ran back to the house as fast as I could. I flew into the house, and bolted the door behind me. I slid down to the floor and prayed they hadn’t seen me.
I didn’t know what to do. There was no one to call, and what would I even say?
I numbly sat there until I fell into a restless sleep.
But this morning I woke up to Darren frying eggs in the kitchen.
My first thought was how did he get in here? But then I remembered. The front door. It wasn’t locked- no one locks their door out here. Why would you?
I stared at him.
“Honey?” I asked tentatively. “Are you.. Feeling alright?”
He plated the eggs and brought them to the table. “Sure, why?”
“You never came to bed last night.”
He laughed. “Sure I did. You were out cold, still holding that book with the light on.”
I felt a surge of relief. “Oh.. really?” Then I felt doubtful. “How did I get down here?”
“I think you were sleepwalking again.”
“Oh.”
I stared down at my plate. Two fried eggs and a slice of bacon grinned back at me, like a demented smiley face.
Darren had fried the eggs. Not scrambled them, like I always did. He knew I hated fried eggs, especially the runny ones. Something was off.
I ate the eggs anyway, and didn’t call attention to his mistake. The rich, buttery yolks turned my stomach. I carefully watched Darren as he cleaned his plate.
Surely all that last night was just a dream. Right? Had to be. Maybe I’m having stress nightmares again.
I have this bad feeling something is wrong with him.
I just peeked out the window and right now he’s out in the barn. I don’t know what he’s doing.
If something is wrong- that means it wasn’t a dream.
Maybe that’s not my husband at all.