THE GREYS

We continued following the trail.

The vegetation thinned several kilometres beyond the structures until eventually there was nothing left.

Only sand.

Miles of it.

The colour is unlike anything recorded on Earth. Pale under direct light, but almost silver when the auroras move overhead.

At first we thought the wind was making the noise.

It was not.

There are whispers beneath the surface.

Too faint to understand.
Too consistent to ignore.

Every step seems to disturb them.

The deeper we travelled into the region, the stronger they became.

We began experiencing visual anomalies shortly after entering.

Movement along the horizon.
Figures where there were none.
Structures appearing in the distance and disappearing when approached.

At one point I saw The Nova.

Completely repaired.

Sitting less than a hundred metres away.

It was not there.

We have started referring to this region as the Cosmic Sands.

Something within the material appears to interfere with perception.

The effects are not only visual.

Memory is becoming unreliable.

There are moments I cannot account for.

Conversations neither of us remember beginning.

Footprints beside ours that disappear halfway across the dunes.

And the whispers have started sounding familiar.

That is the part I do not like.

They no longer sound random.

Sometimes they sound like people we knew on Earth.

Sometimes they sound like us.

We attempted to turn back twice.

Both times we somehow ended up facing deeper into the desert.

Navigation equipment shows no fault.

Neither of us remembers changing direction.

The longer we remain here, the harder it is to separate what is happening from what we think is happening.

Something about this place gets into your head.

I can feel it.

Thoughts that do not feel like mine.

Anger without reason.

Paranoia.

The feeling that we are being watched even when there is nothing around us for kilometres.

We found another Grey vessel partially buried beneath the dunes.

No bodies.

No signs of impact.

The craft appears to have landed intentionally.

Its doors were open.

Tracks lead away from it.

Toward the centre of the desert.

Whatever brought them here...

they followed it too.

We should leave.

I know that.

But the frequency is stronger than it has ever been.

And now...

I can hear something beneath the whispers.

A voice.

It keeps telling us we are close.

I just cannot tell anymore whether that is a good thing.

 

End Of Transmission_