When It Arrived

 

            The sun had just crested over the distant hills, slicing through the grayish hue of the early morning, tempting Julian to hope for a slight increase in temperature. An annoying, rhythmic drip had been irritating him for the past three hours as he rested on his knees in three inches of water, waiting for the next round of ducks to fly overhead. His last opportunity arrived over thirty minutes prior, and he managed to only glean three ducks from that fly over. In the midst of his frustration, he could not identify the source of the constant drip, a sound that made him want to leave but he knew that this would be his last opportunity to hunt this season.

              His ice chest semi-floated next to him, containing the carcasses of the three ducks, another annoyance that required him to repeatedly shift it behind him. Knowing better but doing so anyways, he stood from his crouched position and rotated all of his limbs and neck to try to relax from the tension of the situation. Standing and squatting several times, he was startled from his calisthenics by the sound of something very large dropping onto the swampy land relatively close behind him.

              He turned toward the sound to see something large and bright purple partially submerged, surrounded in an almost poetic manner by water lilies and stalks of swamp weed. His first suspicion was that of a frozen block of liquid from an airplane but as he approached the object, he realized it was certainly not frozen but appeared gelatinous and squishy. The alarmingly bright purple color was unlike anything he had ever seen but it wasn't merely purple, it also pulsed, it's color slightly shifting in a rhythmic manner, hinting at life but no form of life he had ever before observed.

              He poked at it with the tip of his shotgun and the blob did nothing at all, other continuing to pulse, it's surface slick and basically impenetrable, merely flexing inward as he pushed. "This is bad, this is not a good thing, this is both awkward and frightening," he thought, "I need to tell someone about this." He glanced around himself to triangulate his exact location, knowing that his was the only duck blind in the area, he grabbed the handle on his ice chest and worked his way across the marsh toward his truck parked less than a mile away.

              After loading his equipment into the bed of his truck, he scraped a large arrow in the gravel, pointing toward the duck blind, and left as quickly as possible to find friends, or neighbors, or better yet, the sheriff. Within the hour, thirteen people stood around the pulsing blob with Julian, each poking it with the tip of a gun or a stick or, in the case of the sheriff, a nightstick. Everyone had the exact same response as Julian, "that thing ain't natural," they all said.

              The sheriff then spoke up, giving direction as the actual authority in the town and declared that this area was now off limits, and that he would posting warning signs and crime scene tape to protect everyone was interacting with something that no one could identify. Shuffling the group of equally confused onlookers back to the parking lot, he placed a call to the FBI, seeking direction on how to proceed.

              By the end of day, the FBI had arrived and agreed with all those present that whatever this thing was, it was certainly unnatural and potentially dangerous, creating even greater barriers of access to the area. Within three days, the Johansson brothers had built an observation platform a safe distance to the south, charging a small fee for anyone interested. By weeks end, the brothers had amassed an alarming amount of money from everyone in town, from the surrounding towns and from local and distant media.

              By the end of the month, the pulsing blob had done nothing but sit and pulse until one of the Johansson brothers let out a large whoop, immediately followed by an announcement that the blob had extended a tentacle from its side, which brought a change in its shape, seeming more like two interconnected blobs instead of one, it's color changing from pulsing purple to pulsing green. The tentacle eventually developed into an additional blob on the far end, much smaller than the original but still pulsing the same green light.

              Each week for the next three months, a new tentacle emerged from the blob in a circular pattern, until the original blob sat in the center taking on the appearance of a clock, surrounded by twelve new blobs, varying in size, and each as equally as puzzling. No one knew what to do or how to respond, as the thing seemed to present no potential threat or hostility, it merely sat, now surrounded by twelve offspring, as some began to label them. Eventually the entire marsh was closed off by an ever-expanding team of scientists and military personnel, to the disgruntlement of the local hunters.

              The FBI tried to take samples of the original, but to no avail, trying as well to obtain something from each tentacle and from each offspring but again to face only failure. The area immediately within and surrounded the thirteen blobs began to lose its moisture, as if an invisible wall had built itself around them, exposing now dry ground as the twelve offspring began to grow larger in the sequence that they had appeared.

              Most of the locals began to become frustrated at the constant presence of the FBI, the military, and the continual flow of sightseers from the surrounded area. Soon many began protesting and picketing that the government needed to do something to protect their favorite marsh and remove this abomination from the area, and to take it somewhere secure to identify its nature and its purpose, if it had one.

              The consternation from the locals appeared to achieve its desired goal as multiple trucks and trailers arrived as well as excavation equipment, breaking up the unnatural, or as some called it, unholy visitors. With each extraction, the tentacle-like appendages began to shrivel and separate from the original blob, allowing the government to remove the abomination. The locals cheered as everything returned to normal and Julian thankfully returned to his duck blind to continue his hunting efforts, thankful for the opportunity given by the extension of hunting season. "Three ducks is nowhere near enough for one season," he grumbled.

              Just before the winter cold set in, the sheriff received a visit from an FBI agent, with an announcement and explanation of what they had learned. One of the twelve blobs stopped glowing on the trip to the laboratory for examination, and the original blob which had semi-shifted into something appearing like two blobs connected finalized their break, one eventually shriveling into a pale lifeless mass while the other grew only larger and more vibrant. "And as far as we call tell," he said, "the lifeform had no ill intent and posed no danger to anyone, in fact, it seemed to be enhancing the quality of its surroundings."

              The glowing masses, while certainly alive in terms of the scientific definition, didn't exactly fit into any category of life known to any scientist on the planet. Sentient or not, they were uncertain, as its nervous system and brain were nearly impossible for the experts to understand. As the remaining blobs continued to pulse, the science team fabricated a similar setting in which to place them with the hope that marshy ground was their preference in which to thrive.

              Many years passed and eventually everyone in the town forgot about the strange appearance and Julian continued his regular pattern of hunting, still annoyed by the unidentifiable drip.