An Alien Tear



A story of an alien that has been living among us for quite a while.
Reading time: 5 minutes.


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An Alien Tear

XTales.net xtalesnet Suraj Singh Sisodia beastboysuraj



He finished office early that day, so he arrived at this small diner a little earlier than his usual time, where he ate every night. The only server boy there, who was not more than fifteen, brought his usual. It was the least expensive meal on the menu; he had to manage his budget. It wasn’t like he was getting paid a juicy check every month.

He began to eat, but there was something different that day. Usually, he would enjoy his not-so-delicious dinner in silence with three or four other people. But that evening, he was distracted by two faces looking at him. He looked across the open diner where two kids about nine and eleven years were peeking at him with hungry eyes from behind the wall.

He ignored them at first. But when he was about to take his first bite, his hand stopped midway.

“Oh, come on,” he muttered, gesturing to the kids to come over.

The kids ran towards the table with an electric speed. He motioned them to sit before splitting the tortilla in the middle and handed them each a half. The kids grabbed them as a drowning person grasped onto a raft. He slid the bowl full of gravy of chopped onion, chillies, and tomatoes fried with chopped ginger and garlic in a bunch of hot spices towards them.

He watched them as they ate. The boy was about eleven, and the girl was about eight. They ate without looking left or right. There was something peaceful about watching them, satisfying even. He wasn’t hungry anymore. He smiled, and that’s when he noticed that everyone else was looking at him. They were all smiling too.

The kids went on to devour the whole meal within a minute. Then, they started looking at him with hope.

“What, you want more?” he asked.

They just nodded. No one could tell if the kids were mute.

His heart sank. He thought he wouldn't be able to eat the following morning, either.

“Alright!” he sighed, gesturing to the server boy, who brought another hot meal. As the kids lunged on the new bowl, he started eating the leftover gravy in the first one.

Finally, the kids were full. They didn't say anything, though. Maybe they were mute indeed.

“So, here is the thing," he said, looking upon them. "I fed you today, but I won't be able to do so every day, okay?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said someone from the back.

He turned back. A man walked over to the table.

“I got them for tomorrow,” the man said. "I see them every day, but I never cared. I regret not helping them sooner. Tonight, when I saw you, I mean, I know you can’t afford to feed three people every night; I know where you work. I saw you do it so selflessly and without thinking about yourself. It made me change my heart. You are an angel. Thank you for making me a better person.”

“Yeah, I was just...” he struggled for words. “I was trying to do the right thing.

"Yeah, I know. I know you were, but I am still worried. I can't feed the kids every night either. We will have to take alternate days."

Another voice echoed. “I am in,” it said.

They both turned and saw the rest of the people standing up and joining them. They formed a circle around the table.

“I got Tuesdays,” a trucker said. “I pass by here every Tuesday. It's better to feed these kids than to make an offering to the great 'Bajrang Bali' (Lord Hanuman). I mean, he would approve, right?"

“I am sure he would,” he replied. “Thank you.”

Within a minute, everyone had taken a day of the week as their responsibility to feed those poor orphans. There was still a day left.

“What about Sundays?” one of them questioned. “None of us work on Sunday, I presume.”

They were looking at each other. No one could take two days even if they wanted to. No one else had any idea. They couldn’t come here from the comfort of their shelters on a Sunday evening. A few of them were thinking about leaving the Sundays, but none of them dared to say it. That’s when another admirable thing happened.

The server boy stepped into the circle. “Can I get in too?” he asked, very innocently.

“You wouldn’t have to,” declared yet another voice. The man was the owner of the diner. "They come here every day and wait for the diner to close. Sometimes, I am left with plenty of leftovers. Other times, they just go back hungry.” He walked into the circle, brushed the kids’ hair with his hands. Then, he looked at the people and said, "Don't worry. Sundays are mine. I wish I had done it sooner.”

Everyone felt a little different when they left the diner that night. They all had this happiness squirming around in their hearts. They didn’t feel useless anymore. They all had a purpose. Maybe they’ll start a fund to send those kids to school one day. It was a start to making this world a better place for themselves and visitors.

The night had gone into a deep slumber, and the kids had made their beds. It was a corner of an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere, a few miles away from the diner. Maybe it was where they slept. The girl fell asleep within a few seconds, but the boy was wide awake. He was waiting for something, looking up at the sky through the cracked ceiling.

Suddenly, he made a movement. A shooting star had just appeared in the sky, or maybe it was something else. The boy stood up. His eyes lit up blue, and his ears transformed into what looked like two antennas. He spoke in an indistinguishable language. If there were any humans around, they wouldn’t understand a thing, but what he said changed the fate of the entire earth.

“Commander, new information has come into the light," he said. “We have to stop or at least postpone the invasion for now. What we thought about them, what I had reported earlier, was not entirely correct.”

He stopped to think. A single drop of an alien tear slid down his cheek. “Not all of them are cruel and evil,” he added. “Some of them are kind.”


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