They were back! What did they want this time? She was paralyzed as ice water
seemed to creep through her veins. Her muscles refused to cooperate. She wanted
to run, to hide, anything but this awful feeling of being unable to move. No!
No! Not again! I don't want to go with you! As usual her wants were not taken
into account, and the familiar process began to take place.

The white light that was blinding and so common to these experiences spilled
into the room from one window on the west wall. Her bed was turned so the foot
of it faced the opposing wall in an attempt to deter her tormentors in the hopes
that she could deter her tormentors.

Wolf howled in the back yard, and his chain rattled in an attempt to get to her.
There would be no protection this night. They had found her again. No matter how
many times she moved, they found her. The recent move to Portland, Oregon was no
exception. For a year she was safe. Now it didn't matter, it was all starting

Her body felt light and she levitated off the bed. The blood stilled in her
veins, her body growing stiffer. The sensation of fight or flight took over, but
she had no energy to follow through with it.
There was a small scraping sound to her left and she turned her eyes, the only
thing she could move in that direction. The window opened by itself. A blue beam
with her torturers, tiny, hairless gray beings with large black eyes flowed into
the room. She shut her eyes; she didn't want to see them. Her blankets were
removed, and hands guided her body.

Their grainy, leathery hands were so cold she shivered involuntarily. She hated
it when they touched her. Caught in the blue beam she looked up to see something
she had hoped never to see again. Her body floated out the open window and then
up, up, up towards the waiting craft.

Her back brushed the top of the cedar tree in her back yard. She knew which tree
it was because she could smell its calming scent. Far below her Wolf had ceased
his howling, but she could still hear his whimpers as though from far away.
Tears that would not fall grew in the corners of her eyes. I should never have
tied Wolf up in the backyard. If she had kept him with her maybe she would not
be about to suffer this again.

Unable to resist she opened her eyes just in time to see the bottom of the craft
open up before she floated inside. Terror moved through her, making her previous
fear seem as nothing. What are they going to do this time? What tests will they
perform? Will they return me to my home, or will I disappear from Earth never to
be seen again? The not knowing what to expect was the worst. The only thing that
was ever certain with these experiences was it would be extremely painful both
psychologically and physically. Everything else about the experiences depended
on the tormentors.

She opened her eyes, and looked around. I must've blacked out again. She wiggled
her fingers and attempted to pick up her hands, but found she could not. They
had put her wrists in restraints. She tried to lift one of her legs and found
her ankles restrained as well.
They removed my clothes again! It was one of the worst things about the
experiences. She had nothing, nothing. No way to protect herself. No way to run.
No way to escape. It was always the same, trapped like a rat in a maze with
nowhere to hide.

Huge black tilted eyes that seemed to almost encompass the entire width of an
overly large gray skull were peering down at her. She found she could not seem
to look away.

Don't be afraid, we will not hurt you. An almost mechanical voice touched her

Leave me alone! Let me go!

You are special, you are one of our chosen ones. Only you and others like you
can help save your planet. The voice continued as though she was not trying to

In some dim corner of Angel's mind she knew she had been told this before. In
fact this was their main communication at the beginning of an experience. They
were trying to distract her from what they were doing. She remembered this from
the other times. They would speak to her in her mind, tell her how special she
was and how what they were doing to her would help them to save her world. It
was all lies. She knew what they were doing, and she knew it was wrong.

She felt their leathery hands on her stomach. She tried to look down, but the
alien's black eyes would not let her. A sharp agonizing pain in her stomach
below her navel told her they were doing a familiar procedure. A procedure they
called a pregnancy test and that was performed by inserting a large needle about
a quarter inch around into her ovaries to extract eggs. Why they called it a
pregnancy test, she had never been able to figure out.

Some small part of her mind grasped weakly at the idea, there was something here
she was not remembering, something important.

You are feeling no pain, no pain. It interrupted her thought processes.

No pain, my ass!

For some reason, her tormentors seemed to think if they told her there would be
no pain, it would somehow miraculously disappear. What a crock! She always felt
the pain of their procedures.

The agony escalated to enormous proportions, and Angels's mind in an effort to
escape it caused her to black out. At least this was what she always had felt
happened. She could never be sure if it was the pain, or if the being who kept
her distracted somehow put the suggestion into her mind.


Angel Whitedove opened her eyes. Her stomach hurt badly. She pulled her legs up
and held herself in a fetal position. It was starting again. They were back. She
groaned softly and realized she could not run this time, there was nowhere to
go. They always found her in the end. It might take them a year or so, but they
always found her. Now that they had, the sleepless nights, the nightmares, and
the silent horror was about to start all over again.

Her mouth felt like the inside of an old shoe, and tasted like one too. A wild
shiver moved through her. She looked down and saw she was naked. They had not
bothered to redress her this time. Carefully she sat up and checked out her
stomach. Just below her navel was a small red puncture wound. It had not just
been a bad dream then. They had really found her again. Damn!

Angel reached up to brush long strands of dark hair away from her face, and her
hand came away with small sprigs of cedar. She pulled the cedar from her hair
and got up from the bed. She looked around for her robe but could not find it.
Her tormentors must have decided to keep it for a souvenir. Taking a deep breath
to clear the cobwebs from her mind she went to her dresser and pulled a clean
t-shirt and underwear out and put them on. She knew from experience she needed
to get out her Polaroid camera and take a picture of the small puncture wound on
her stomach because it would be gone by early afternoon.

Angel despondently wandered into the kitchen for a plastic bag to put the cedar
twigs in. She knew they were not really proof but like the puncture wound they
were the only tangible evidence that the visitors had found her yet again.

She felt like crying but what good would that do? As a child when she had first
begun to remember the horrible experiences she would cry for days after being
taken, her father really the only person able to console her. But her father was
no longer with her, and there was no one to hold her and tell her everything
would be ok. Angel made sure of it. She allowed none close to her so no one
could be touched by the visitors as she had been. She did not want the

The Polaroid camera positioned, her shirt lifted and the panties lowered she
took several pictures of the puncture mark on her stomach. The journal lay open
to a new page with the date written at the top, and the bag of cedar was taped
to it. There was room for at least one of the Polaroid pictures beneath it. The
other two pictures along with a few other of the sprigs of cedar would be placed
in a safety deposit box at her bank along with a second copy of the journal. She
would deposit the pages with the experience along with them later in the day. If
there was one thing she had learned in investigating this phenomenon, the
visitors were not above stealing evidence. She always made sure she had two
sets, one locked away safely where they hopefully could not get to it.

Fortunately, they had not tampered with her coffee maker and the required two
cups was hot and waiting for her just as she had set the timer to do. Standing
at the counter she looked out the window and what promised to be another sunny
but cool day. Spring in Oregon could be incredibly fickle, boasting sunshine in
the morning and black roiling clouds filled with rain by afternoon. Angel did
not mind though, she loved Oregon. It was worth all the rain to have the
beautiful green everywhere. The trees, the flowers, the grass; it was all so
colorful this time of year. I should never have left.

Angel stood on tiptoe to reach up and grab a mug out of the cupboard above and
to the left of her sink. She poured herself a mug of caffeine fortification and
added cream and sugar before she turned and walked to the table to record the
events of last evening in what she privately called her "tormentor journal." She
needed to get it all down while it was fresh in her mind, at least what she
could readily recall. Later she would transcribe her notes into her computer and
take the printed pages to be added to her typed version of the journal that was
ensconced in her safety deposit box at her local U.S. Bank. One could never be
too sure with the visitors.