The Red-Eyed Martian

The Book of Ron · 1 of 48 · 2 minute read

Early in life, either my older brother, who was about eight, or I, around six or seven, had to stay up until my father got home. Mom worked evenings at a nursing home, from 4:30 until early morning, and Dad would get home around 1:00 or 1:15 a.m. Someone had to be awake in case something tragic happened, like a fire.

Dad was notorious back then for placing copper pennies behind fuses that had burnt out from overload. Much of the house still had bare wire wrapped around porcelain insulators, though some parts had been rewired. Everything still fed off that old fuse box—no circuit breakers.

So staying awake at one o’clock in the morning, when you’re six or seven years old, was daunting. I always turned on the TV, something that might scare me and keep me awake. I never wanted to be asleep if he walked in—it would have been the end of life as I knew it.

That night, I was watching an Orson Welles movie about Martians invading the Earth. I don’t remember the title, but it was based on the famous radio broadcast he had done. Back then, few people even had TVs, and the radio broadcast had caused real panic—some people had even committed suicide because it seemed so real.

The movie terrified me. Red eyes glowed everywhere, beams of light vaporized people left and right, and I was convinced the world was about to end.

A couple of weeks later, we visited some of my mom’s relatives in Kentucky. The house had no wiring or plumbing; electricity ran only to the barn from the back porch. There was an outhouse down the path, and everything inside the house was lit by candles and oil lamps.

Early that morning, I had to go to the bathroom. Restless anyway, I jumped up. It was cold outside, but it was just a quick trip to the outhouse, so I didn’t bother putting on proper clothes.

On my way back, I rounded the corner and froze. On the back porch stood the biggest Martian I’d ever seen. Two large glowing eyes blinked on and off like they had a life of their own. You could almost hear the rhythmic beat of those eyes searching for the next victim. I was absolutely certain everyone in the house was already dead.

I didn’t know what to do. I hunkered behind a tree, paralyzed with fear. If I ran, I was sure a ray gun would vaporize me. I couldn’t call for help. I certainly could not confront the Martian by myself. I stayed behind that tree, trapped in a nightmare of my own imagination.

Shortly, the sun began to rise, and I could make out the outline of a fence charger. Those two glowing eyes were nothing more than the pulsating lights from the charger.

Throughout life, we will encounter things that frighten us, things that vividly live in our mind. Our imaginations are strong tools indeed, but we must learn to control them. Martians may be no more than rumors, lies, or injuries. It could be a paramount of things—but stand your ground. The sun will soon rise. The truth will be known, and the fear will evaporate.

There is a companion workbook for this story. Open the workbook (PDF).