So, I got this wonderful idea for a story that I have absolutely no desire to write myself....
But trust me, the story is good.
So..the basis of it is, after the war, a man (a slightly twisted man) finds a martian ALIVE, that is somehow immune to human diseases. This man finds that he and the martian can communicate telepathically. He lets the martian feed off of his blood, as well as the blood of animals, and eventually he begins killing humans and feeding their blood to the martian. In return, the martian begins to give him the secrets of martian technology, and informs the man that another wave of martians are en route to earth.
Thats as far as I got in my head, but, I dont know, I have no ambition to write this...I need a ghost writer....
Ok, I saw that (ages ago) and then (today) started to think more about it.
While I was weeding the garden (I'm not very old), I started to think about the story.
So I came up with this:
Martian in the Basement
Chapter 1
1903, Epsom.
It was over – the war was over!
Boys ran through the town and people went about their daily business as though nothing had ever happened.
But it had happened – the Martians had come.
Their battle cries of “Ulla!” were never to be heard in the land again.
“It’s over,” John said to himself as he walked towards his home, “It’s over.”
John was a survivor of the Martian invasion as were most people of his village.
However, many had fallen to the heat ray, black smoke – or had just disappeared.
John had fled England to Germany where he had met up with other survivors.
On his return, he had found some things to be exactly as they were before the war – and some had just disappeared off the face of the planet.
The things that had disappeared were manly towns that had been wiped out by the Martians.
John watched as people gathered around a cart that was carrying books and were handed out.
“What’s that then?” he asked someone.
“Some book written just after the war finished.” a man answered him.
“Yeah,” another said, “It’s on the war itself!”
“Sure,” John said, “I’d like to see it.”
John, despite his normal outward appearances, had a mental health problem.
He was an only child and his father had killed himself.
His mother had worked hard for him but had died when a horse had trampled her – the owner (A government politician) doing nothing to stop it.
It was then that John began to hate the government and blamed them for failing to stop the Martian invasion and conquest of England.
The English empire had sent supplies to the ‘mother land’ along with America, French and other countries.
Civilisation in England had slowly begun to rebuild itself.
London was repopulated as people who had fled overseas returned and Britain resumed its place as a dominate power on the planet.
Only one Martian body so far had been recovered whole and was now on display at a museum.
Some had been burned after they rotted and dogs had got at them.
The others had been dissected.
But it was still slightly a mystery, no one knew what it ate since there seemed to be no teeth or a digestive system like humans.
John shoved his way through the crowd, grabbed a book and went into his house.
“Let’s see what this is about.” he said to himself.
John then read the entire book.
It was called, “The War of the Worlds” and was written by some man named Herbert George Wells.
When he got to the chapter about Martians draining blood from humans he threw the book across the room.
“Lies!” he shouted, “The government fools are trying to scare us so that they can resume ruling us!”
He raved around the house for a bit longer.
“Rouges,” he said as he noticed that he had been broken into, “They deserved to die!”
He then thought that some wine might help.
Searching through his cupboards, he found none.
“The basement!” he said and went over to his carpet.
Heaving that aside he revealed a trap door.
“Bet they never thought to look under here!” he said as he gleefully rubbed his hands together.
Opening the trap door led him down to the basement.
“Wait,” John said holding his lantern above his head, “What’s that?”
John went closer.
It was white and sprawled out on the ground and shiny and looked like a-
“A skeleton!” John said and looked around the basement.
John’s basement was a large one, about 8m x 8m.
Around the edge of it were wine holders.
There were several in the centre – and a human skeleton near the stairs.
Suddenly, there was a noise.
John swung round – but there was nothing there.
“A snake,” John said as he saw it slithering on the ground, “Damn these creatures.”
John moved towards it to get rid of.
Then there was a large howl and the trap door shut itself.
“What?” John span round.
There was another howl.
John by now was growing nervous and looked at the shadows.
He noticed a large hollow dug out – one which he didn’t do himself.
He looked at the skeleton and wondered quickly if-
“No,” he told himself, “No it can’t be!”
He moved closer to look at the hollow.
Then the snake grabbed him and pulled him closer.
Another came and another all grabbed him.
“No!” he shouted struggling but couldn’t free himself.
Then a large bulk came out of the hallow to examine its prize.
It was nothing short of a Martian - one that had survived the holocaust of its own kind on Earth.
It seemed fascinated by his fear.
“No!” John shouted, “Help! Wells was right!”
But of course no one could help him.
The Martian pulled him ever closer.
It span him round so that he faced away from him.
He heard a terrible gurgling noise in its throat.
“No, please!” he shouted as he realised that he was about to become lunch.
it took me a little while to write so I hope that people like it a little (Whilst remembering that I'm no writer myself)
it took me a little while to write so I hope that people like it a little (Whilst remembering that I'm no writer myself)