We've all heard the stories, of Area 51, government funded private galactic space expedition and more. Hypothesis drawn and conspiracy theories circulated: intelligent life existed out there; the notion that aliens are real. And just like day and night, there were those who believed and those that didn't. Uncle Sam was one such person, that was until fourteen years ago when they had arrived. Living, breathing, proof of their existence and superiority.

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His eyes were like a storm dwelling in the calmest of oceans, as they pierced through me. The space between us were yards apart and yet it felt like mere centimeters. His stance was that of authority, commandeering as it leaves the feel of submission in the atmosphere. And just like water rushing across a starved land his words found refuge in my consciousness. 

"You can become my prey Zamara if that is what you wish. Hide and I will find you; run and I will hunt." Those words strained against my ears, as our eyes met again. I could see it the determination he held for the hunt, the thrill it brought him. I was prey, his prey and I had just been caught. 

DISSIMULATE 

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