Featuring this Weekend
I’ve always been lonely, never finding anyone I could feel connected to on earth, I set out to simply connect with my own agendas, to search for more.
They way people described the connections they had with others always made me know that I lacked a certain propensity to connect with another human on this described level. The fervor of certainty towards another simply seemed distant and impossible to reach. I know there are those who have not felt this fervor, but I knew my situation went beyond that. The way that others felt it did not make me desire it; it created a cold and distant gap between me and those who did feel it. After a while, I realized that the connections that people had were anchors, but I was one of the few chosen ones, ones unable to be chained by a connection to another. Perhaps it is the media that creates the delusions of these feelings in others, or perhaps it is just how people are: inexplicable. No matter, it is now far too late for that.
My first flight in my craft resulted in a crash landing in the middle of a town. It made the news, and created a media frenzy. Luckily, I was able to take off again without exiting the craft. Unluckily, it was not fast enough to avoid the multitude of news vans swarming the site, reporting on the scene, live. They caught my take off and subsequent crash landing in the forest hills outside of town. It was there that I was stranded for a pair of days while search teams were sent. On the television monitors aboard my craft, I saw the sensationalism expand over the weekend. Supposed experts of all sorts coming out of the woodwork, speculating on the type of craft, the type of creature who pilots it, and even attempts to calculate where in the universe it came from via trajectory. All were completely false, of course. I am just a man who feels no connections. For lack of facts, they created their own news, and it was histrionic sensationalism. Reports went on for hours with nothing concrete; it was a parade of fools masquerading as information for the masses. Is anybody else aware of it? I wonder.
On the first night, knowing via this media spectacle that the search parties were supposedly close doubled my night ardency, and I was able to fix my craft before the location of my craft was discovered the next day. Swiftly and silently, my craft took to the air; I hovered close to the ground before rocketing up into the stratosphere. I returned to my hangar the following night. The television stations all settled upon their own agendas for the truth of my craft, and within a few days when the ratings began to wane for the tales of the craft from the void above, there was something new to report on, featuring this weekend.
GuNNhead 
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