Writing Challenge #3: Genre & Phrase

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Alright, time for a new challenge, this one will be a little different. The theme will be a genre and a phrase.

This week's Genre: Aliens!

This week's phrase: Not going back there again.
Re: Late challenge =D

Perched in the center of his intricately woven home , Arkimilius sat silently observing. His many eyes watched movement from below while his sensitive legs felt for any vibrations. Food had been scarce laity and if he did not feed soon he would have to move. And moving, to Arkimilius meant more than just packing up a few things and hitting the road In fact, without contact to Arachnidicon, the small spider's home planet, he would not get the proper clearance. IF he did not have the proper clearance, they would no doubt send in the winged death to tear his tiny body into pieces; Moving on a whim was NOT an option for Arkimilius. He feared that he would starve to death, but not nearly as much as he feared the winged death.

The winged death, as most of the Earth inhabiting aliens from planet Arachnidicon referred to them as, were yellow and black predators from the sky. Their shiny, jet black eyes could easily spot their prey from high above, while sharp, venom filled stingers threatened a slow and painful death. Those that got torn to bits by powerful claws were the lucky ones. Arkimilius knew this. Last week, in human time, he had lost a mate. She was his love, his life, and the mother of his 3,000 children. She had become hungry, much in the same way that Arkimilius was now. One night as the moon shone down beams of gentle light upon the land, she ventured out in search of food. She did not make it far, They saw her and put an immediate stop to her advances. The winged death were on her faster that lightning to the ground. Within seconds she was being pumped full of the highly deadly toxin that would insure the next few hours of her life to be a painful, cramp induced hell.

Arkimilius let eight tears slid down his cheek, but quickly shook it off as a pain struck deep into his abdomen. He needed to eat, anything would do. In the past he had preferred larger, juicer varieties of bugs, but by this point even a green shit fly would do. Anything to take this god awful pain away.

It had been years since Arkimilius had been to his home planet of Arachnidicon. When King Archalik gave orders for volunteer spiders to travel to earth to make "observations", naturally Arkimilius, as a loyal member of the royal house, took the job. He, along with six others and their mates, traveled to earth, via silken web strands created by the mother gods (The ancient protectors of the arachnid race). Once they arrived they gathered information, mostly about the environment. The humans were no problem, once the invasion hit they would have little to no chance of survival. The spiders were a menacing breed, and although they had occupied earth for centuries, now was the dawn of a new time. A time in which humans had out lived their time on earth, and with a growling stomach, Arkimilius made a choice to leave the web. His hunger over powered him. he let out a silken rope and shot down to the sort dirt below, taking one last glance at his home.

"Not going back there again."
The small blue alien looked over at the blue planet they have left and were heading back to their home planet. On the trip back, he examined the notes of his logs and read them three times to make sure he was very accurate to his feelings too. He took a deep breath and finally landed his sentence.

" Scouter, 74743, what is your status on the planet Earth in their year 2017?" He asked.

Scouter 74743 looked over at the council. " I'm never going back there. While most of the creatures are harmless and can be tamed by us, there is one species that is bad to our existence. It was these humans. I travelled across the lands and found that they are different. In one sector, they are a hot mess, and others they thrive. I have seen starving humans and fat ones, I have yet to understand why the species is so divided by different strange things. Sexual preference, color of skin, wealth amongst others. While these beings are indeed intelligent, most are self-absorbed and apathetic. I can safely assess that this planet shall be visited by a future scouter if they don't destroy each other."

The council nodded and dismissed Scouter 74743. " Over thousand years and the species can be still experiencing these problems. We shall send a scout in ten years to see how it has changed, but for now, we shall follow the advice of Scouter 74743 and leave it for the team being. But if no progress is found in ten years time, we shall destroy it."
"No. Nuh-uh. I'm never going back there again," stated the Gormoran in a guttural, sharp tone. "It stinks, there's never any good music, and it's full of friggin' psychos."

"Come on, Batty, it's not that awful," Harmon muttered as they walked through the crowded district. "You could do worse than Amaro V. Your home planet's not exactly roses."

"That's only because you humans are too overstimulated. You gotta have drugs, you gotta have your ethanol, you gotta have your theaters. Like right now! We're looking for a bar!" Batty sneered, his wrinkly face twisted in disgust as his cranial spines rose in irritation.

"Now, listen here, I did nothing but sit through three weeks of Gormoran music - which sounds like a nail file against sandpaper by the way - so I think you can put up with me getting a little socialization in."

The two stopped in front of an open door, a long string of chemical names in neon over the door. Harmon rubbed his hands together in anticipation while Batty shielded his sensitive eyes. They sat down at the bar, the Gormoran barely clearing the countertop, and the Ichturae bartender quickly served them - Miller for Harmon, a Judus Frost for Bats.

"Judus? You could just get water you know."

"Shut your mouth, Harmie, before I spit in that piss you call beer."

"Hey - you two Batman and Robin?" a voice asked behind them, and Harmon froze, the Gormoran to his left bristling both literally and figuratively.

"Depends whose asking," Harmon said smoothly, looking over his shoulder and nearly dropping his jaw once he did so.

He had heard that Vaela were renowned for their beauty. 'Renowned' was a bit tame. She had to be nearly six feet tall, with pale skin and lips the color of a Gala apple. Her small eyes tracked his, blinking.

"A buyer--"

"We'll do it."

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Henry shook his head vehemently, "No way! I am NOT going back there...no...nothing you can say will change my mind."

Mick smiled, "January 10th..."

"Oh dirty pool...and no..even for that..tell..get me arrested..whatever..."

Mick frowned at him, "Oh come on...it was dead...."

"How do you KNOW it was dead? Maybe they look like that when they are sleeping? Or whatever it is that aliens do." he grabbed his friend's shoulders, "I am not going..I plan to get laid before I do something that will mean my certain death. Priorities my man...I have them."

"Fine...go home then. I'm going back."

"You can't go back alone."

"Watch me..." he said as he stood and turned the way they'd just come, "I want pictures to prove we saw it."

Henry watched Mick go and almost gave in and joined hi, but took off running toward home. This was one time Mick Davison was NOT going to get him in trouble.

Mick retraced their steps and found the cave. He tapped the flashlight on his phone and started in to get the pictures they hadn't got the first time they were there. No one would believe it without pictures. he crept up to the dead alien and switched the phone to video mode and began talking. "This is Mick Davison and I am in a cave with a dead alien creature. Henry and I found it, but he wouldn't come back...I am filming this for proof..."

The words stopped short in his throat as the alien's hand suddenly reached up and wrapped around his throat. The phone fell to the ground but was still recording as the alien feasted on the teen.

When Mick didn't call him the next morning Henry was concerned so he went over to the Davison house to check on him. His mother looked confused saying that she thought Mick was with Henry. He went back home and told his dad about the whole thing. Shotgun in hand the two went back to the cave, now in broad daylight. The cave was now empty except for the blood splattered here and there and what appeared to be pieces of bone. Henry saw the cell phone and picked it up, but it was dead.

They went home and Henry used his charger to charge the phone and he and his father watched the video in horror. His father called the police, but a long series of agents paraded through their home, and finally the entire family was relocated and their silence purchased.