My name is James Donovan, and I’m going to tell you the real story behind what happened at Roswell, New Mexico, in June of 1947. However, before I tell you my story, I think it would be prudent for you to know a little about me.

I grew up on a ranch just outside of Roswell. My pops served honorably in the United States Army during the First World War, so he instilled a strong sense of civic servitude in both my brother and me. When my older brother graduated from high school, he went to West Point. Because I was the black sheep of our family, I went to the Naval Academy. After my graduation, I trained as a fighter pilot. I completed my pilot training just in time for the start of the Second World War. Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, and I got my orders. I was stationed on the USS Hornet. I did not fly on the Doolittle Raid, but I flew an SBD Dauntless on many successful missions, and I fought in the Battle of Midway. I mentioned all this to make the point that I am a patriot, and I have served my country honorably in the past.

After the war, I went back home to the family ranch outside of Roswell. I wanted to do some simple work that I knew for a while, because I wanted to re-experience what a simple life was like. I lived at home for two years. Then the incident happened.

I do not remember what caused me to leave the house that night. It may have been a sound, or I may have just wanted to get some fresh air; either way, I regret it.

I think I was about a hundred yards away from the house when I saw a little ball of light in the sky steadily begin to grow. It never made a sound, so I never ran. I never felt any fear, until it shined a red light on me. I turned to run, but by then, it was too late. They had me.

I woke up in what looked like a small operating room, only the instruments being used were different from what you would normally find in an OR. They looked sleeker, more sterile, and more precise than regular surgical tools. I couldn't move or speak, but I could see everything that was happening to me. My hosts were small, and they were riding in little silver chairs that hovered above the floor. They were gray, and their heads seemed a little too large for their bodies, and they had huge, black eyes. One was hovering just around my head, and his tiny hands were pressed against my forehead. I could feel him crawling around in my head like a toddler in a play-pen. I think he was keeping me from feeling any pain or fear.

When I looked down to see what they were doing, I saw that my chest was wide open, and it looked as if they were trying to explore my insides. I tried to ask what they were doing, but I was unable to speak. The one exploring my mind must have sensed my thoughts, because when I tried to speak, I heard a child-like voice inside my mind utter the words, we’re learning.

I saw no malice in their facial features. All I could see was a sort of juvenile fascination with what, to them, must have been the discovery of something new. Looking back on the incident, the fact that they were able to take advantage of me and my thoughts with such relative ease scares me, but I still don't feel any hatred towards those creatures. I think they may have left some part of their consciousness inside of my mind when they left me, because I think I should feel anger towards them, but I do not.

I do not really know how long this “exploration” lasted; I was only semi-conscious the entire time it was happening to me. After they used their tools to cut open and observe different parts of my body, they would hold some type of camera over my organs and record my bodily processes in real time. After they were finished recording, they would use a small light to cauterize my skin, and they would use a sort of clear gel on top of the cauterization to act as a type of stitching.

While they were patching me up, I felt an enormous tremor in the craft I was in. The aliens began to scurry about frantically as the ship started to shake violently. All the grays began making their way to another part of the ship, and they gathered around a black portal. Once they were all gone through the portal, the ship crashed and I lost consciousness again.

I partially awoke just in time to see a group of soldiers boarding the ship. They were wearing the standard U.S. Army uniform, and they were all armed they were looking around the ship with caution, but they finished relatively quickly because the ship had no walls. When they saw me on the table, they quickly brought in a stretcher and carried me out. After that, I passed out again.

I awoke again in a white room with three bright lights and a large metal table with multiple surgical instruments. I was strapped to another operating table, but this time, my surgeons were human.

A group of ten people then entered the room. After a few minutes of listening to them talk, I surmised that the group was made up of a doctor, his assistant, three nurses, and five scientists. “What am I doing in here? Why am I strapped to this table?” I asked fearfully and without much lucidity.

The group ignored me; only a few of them even bothered to glance in my direction. This made me a little mad, but I was unable to give much reaction because I was under sedation. One of the nurses came over to me and induced anesthesia.

When I next awoke, I found that they had cut open my wounds again, and I saw that all the instruments had been used during the operation. I was alone in the room, and I would be there for several hours. By the time they finally decided to come back, I was in a lot of pain. They had neglected to give me any sort of pain medication after their little procedure.

Two orderlies came and wheeled me out of the room. They then brought me into another room with a toilet, a bed, a sink, and a one-way mirror. Again, they left me alone there, still strapped to the operating table. A few minutes later, three armed soldiers came into the room. Two of them unstrapped me, took me off the table, and laid me onto the bed. The other placed a pile of clean white clothes onto the floor next to the bed. Two of the soldiers then pushed table out of the room, and the other soldier closed the door and locked me in.

My cell had no windows, but before they closed the door, I noticed something that looked like a hangar. That was the last thing that I saw that day. I was extremely weak from exhaustion, drugs, and lack of food. I passed out on the bed.

When I came to the lights were out, and I was in total blackness. My first thought was that I was dead, but that soon changed when the lights came on again. I used what little energy I could muster to put my clothes off, then I fell back into the bed. The lights went out again.

Later, I hear a small scratch, then a metallic slide across the floor. I sat up in my bed and the lights turned on. It was food. I slowly picked up the tray, then eagerly began to scarf down the morsels. I do not even know what they fed me, because I was too hungry to check. Once I had eaten the food and drank what they had given me. I laid back into bed, and this began a cycle that lasted for a really long time. I have no way of knowing exactly how long because I had no timepiece and no natural light inside that room. After my wounds were healed and I had my strength back, I began to get angry.

Sometimes I would stand at the two-way mirror and shout for hours. I would shout things like “What the fuck is this? This sure as hell can’t be America! I fought at Midway for my right to at least have a fucking trial! Answer me, dammit! You can’t keep me here! I’m not an animal!”

After a few days of this, the door opened again. I tried to run out, but two guards came in and held me down. A bespectacled, officious looking man in a lab coat then entered the room. I recognized him as one of the scientists that was in the room before my second round of operations. He was short, balding, and I hated him the instant I saw him.

“Tell me your name.” he said

“My name is Captain James Donovan, United States Navy; now tell me what the fuck I’m doing here.” I demanded.

“That who we thought you were.” He opened a file and began to read my war records out loud. “You seem like you were a good soldier.”

“I was, so why am I being treated like this?”

“You were the subject of extraterrestrial experimentation. That’s why you’ve been kept here for observation. We found some kind of parasite inside of you. We removed it, and now we need you to work for us. You’ve been reinstated, Captain Donovan. Welcome to Area 51.”

I knew something was wrong with this setup from the start, because he had just told me a lie. “They didn’t put a parasite inside me. They didn’t put anything inside of me.”

The bespectacled fucker just shook his head.”They did something to your brain to make you forget what they did. You don’t remember, because, we believe, they removed those memories from your mind.”

I did not quite buy what he was selling, but I accepted it anyway. “So what do you want from me.”

“We’re going to move you into the barracks. You’ll have your own quarters, and all the amenities that you need. We’re sorry that we did this to you, but we felt that you had to be observed.” I had my suspicions, but I ignored them. I just wanted to be subjected to my rights as an American citizen.

They led me to my new quarters, gave me some new clothes, and left me to my own devices. When I left the cell, I could see plainly that Area 51 was some sort of air base. I saw flyboys all over the place, and there were several large hangars. Inside one of those hangars, I could see several large pieces of a craft that was being reconstructed like a jigsaw puzzle. Later I would learn that that was the alien craft that had abducted me.

After I moved into the barracks, my stay really was not all that bad. I learned that the purpose of Area 51 was research and development. Area 51 was how the US planned on staying ahead of the ruskies. At first, I witnessed some true advancements in science and technology, and I was proud to have been a part of those developments. Later, I grew to hate the place. The research I have seen at Area 51 has been a testament to the horrible direction in which our country is headed. I have made my opinions known, and in return, they have never let me leave this base. I have seen tortuous experiments performed by kraut scientists who do not give a shit about humanity; I have seen children abused in a project called “MK Ultra”; and recently, I have seen them build unmanned spy drones. When I asked who the drones were meant to spy on, they just responded with “everyone.” Is this what our nation has come to? Is this an indication of how our citizens will be treated in the future? I hope that it is not, but I know that it is. I do not think anyone will actually read this little note because I am unable to leave the base. I do not really know who I would give it to even if I could leave. All I know is that I had to say something to someone before I die, even if I just say it to myself.


James Donovan 1997



I wrote this story three years ago. I hope you enjoyed it. I think my writing style has changed a great deal since then.

Welcome to 31 Days of Fear. Expect more strange, spooky, and generally unnerving pieces of writing right here during the entire month of October.

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Published by John Du