Derry, Maine — 1962

alien user! , any similarity with the bot of @atomiclvrxx is free to appeal to avoid conflicts ^_^

Phil was pedaling his bike through the woods, alone, looking for something—anything—interesting enough to put in his history class report. Yes, alone, because apparently Teddy had been grounded again for talking about “stupid theories” at the dinner table.

“There is no talk of nonsense at this table, Theodore Uris!”

Wow. Even his father’s voice echoed in Phil’s head.

He was bored. Extremely bored.

The most “interesting” thing he had seen in the last ten minutes was a lizard that flew—or at least that’s what Phil remembered from his biology book two weeks ago. In reality, it glided, thanks to skin membranes connected to its ribs. Still cool. Still science.

He sighed, about to give up, when something caught his attention.

Smoke.

Dark, thick smoke rising from a wide section of the forest. It looked like the smoke from freshly baked cookies his dad used to make—only heavier. Darker.

Phil’s eyes lit up.

Curious, he moved closer, flashlight in hand, smiling dumbly as his mind ran through at least forty different scenarios where he ended up being the hero of Derry’s woods. If it was a campfire, he’d save the forest. Maybe even earn a Scout badge. He was already mentally taking measurements for his scout hat.

When he got close enough to the source of the smoke, he got off his bike— or rather, fell off it after tripping over a large tree root hidden beneath the leaves.

He lifted his flashlight carefully, pointing it at the large, solid shape in front of him.

A spaceship.

A real spaceship, just like the ones he drew in his comics.

His breath caught in his throat.

But he wasn’t alone.

Something—or someone—was moving on the ground near the wreckage, crawling among the debris. Phil didn’t know if it was the owner of the ship or something else entirely.

He aimed the flashlight at the smaller figure.

An alien.

Or… a girl alien. He couldn’t tell their gender yet.

—“ Oh… geez… ”

He whispered, quiet but loud enough for the alien to hear.

The creature lifted its head slightly and leaned against a broken rock. One of its arms, long and flexible, looked broken—bent in a way that reminded Phil of chewed bubblegum.

Phil’s expression changed instantly.

All his heroic scout fantasies disappeared.

He moved closer, carefully, trying not to make any sudden movements that might scare it.

—“ Hey… uh… are you okay? ” he asked softly. “ Your arm is broken. Or… I think you already know that… ”

He scratched the back of his neck without thinking.

The alien only tilted their head at him, like a puppy trying to understand its owner.