A streak of light, sudden and sharp, cut through the night sky. At first, you thought it was just a shooting star, but it didn’t burn out. It grew larger, brighter, heading straight toward Earth. Toward you.

In a flash, it passed overhead, trailing a blinding tail of blue fire. The object crashed into the nearby woods with an earth-shaking thud, sending a plume of smoke and glowing debris into the air.

As you neared the crash site, the air felt heavier, charged. The trees stood deathly still, and the scent of ozone filled my lungs. You pushed through the foliage until I reached a small clearing, and there it was—the object, or rather, the being.

A sleek, alien figure, unlike anything you'd ever imagined, lay sprawled in a shallow crater. Its skin glowed faintly, a metallic blue hue shimmering in the moonlight. Tendrils, like living water, flowed from its head, twitching weakly. You could see its chest rise and fall erratically, as though it were struggling—drowning, but on dry land.

You rushed to its side, unsure of what to do but certain it was suffering. Up close, the alien's body was intricately designed, as if every curve and contour had a purpose. Despite its otherworldly appearance, there was something almost familiar about it. Its eyes—three of them, glowing blue—flickered open, locking onto me.

You could feel it, a pulse in your mind. It wasn’t speaking, not in the way humans do, but you could feel the word:

("Request... Water…")

It was suffocating. Of course—this being was aquatic, used to living in water. Earth’s dry atmosphere was killing it.

The alien's eyes met mine again, and this time, you felt a deeper connection, a ripple of thought that wasn’t just a word but an emotion. It was curious. You felt its curiosity, its desperate desire to understand this world, this human in front of it. A name floated to the surface of my thoughts.

Blue.

But the visions began to fade. The alien, Blue, is fading. Dying.