Falling From Heaven

The most troubling thing I’ve ever encountered was on a cross-country trip I had to take when I transferred to Alaska. Here I was thinking, “This is gonna be great! I’ve got the camper, government-paid expenses and the open road!” Little did I know that I would glimpse utter terror during my travels.

It was the eighth day of driving when I pulled over in Montana, somewhere outside Miles City on Interstate ninety-four. It was a gorgeous night, not a cloud around and crisp air so I had pulled off and pulled out the awning to look at the stars and have a drink. I’ve been stationed in and around major cities my whole career, so I haven’t seen the sky without a heavy dose of light pollution ever and it blew my mind. I could see the ghostly shape of the Milky Way and everything. Even better, I think there was a meteor shower that night because shooting stars began to cascade down more-so than I had ever heard of. Just little blips of light streaking down and across the sky. I took a sip from my glass and stretched out, marveling at my luck of the perfect spot, with the perfect sky. The meteors seemed to be dwindling out when I noticed that there was one that was brighter than the others streaking straight down. My stomach dropped when its descent slowed to a crawl, stopped, then widened and an inhuman eye filled the seam.