Mind Control — Flash Fiction

Photo courtesy Aaron Baw

“You hear my thoughts explicitly; that’s unusual for a monkey.” The voice in his head was mellow, sensual, and almost hypnotic.

“Who are you?” He wasn’t sure if he spoke the words or simply thought them.

“We are not of your world. This planet was not our home. But it is now.”

“Why? What happened?” He felt a surge of curiosity, which was unusual for him.

“Our sun was dying. We needed to find a new home. We came here in the times that you now call ancient Egyptian.”

“If you have been here so long, why haven’t we seen you?”

“Monkeys see what we want them to see.”

“I’m not a monkey, I’m a human being.”

“You evolved from monkeys. You behave like monkeys. To us you are monkeys.”

He wanted to argue more, but felt a serene calmness that prevented further discussion. “How can you talk to me?”

“We evolved alongside monkeys on our planet. We are small and not very dextrous. We like to hunt, eat, sleep, and play. We got the monkeys to do all the hard work for us. Only a select few can interpret the conversation. Most just do our bidding and think it is their own choice. Once we were worshipped as gods. These days we just behave like it.”

“Why can I hear?”

“Maybe it’s that stuff you are smoking.”

Frantically, he snubbed out the joint. He leaned back on the couch and sighed. Maybe, he ought to give it away.

His cat wrapped itself around his feet, rubbing against his shins, and purring loudly. “Some of that tinned salmon would be good, right about now.”