Ella`s Story
My Love From The Future
BOOK THREE

Chapter 10 : Disclosure?

Episode 32 : November 6-8 2020 Friday-Sunday 10th grade

Copyright © 2019-2025 Gary Brandt. All rights reserved.

The Danvers’ living room is quiet, the October light fading into early November dusk.

Roxana curls up on the couch, her face drawn, as Mr. Danvers pauses in the doorway, keys in hand. “Roxana, I thought you were hiking the mountain with the girls?” he asks. “They left,” Roxana says, her voice soft.

“I stayed behind.

The funeral’s emotions drained me.

I need alone time.” “Need a ride home?” Mr. Danvers asks. “It’s two houses down,” Roxana says, smiling faintly.

“Can I stay here?” “Sure,” he says.

“I’ve got a group over tonight.

You’re welcome to join.” “Your UFO group?” Roxana asks, eyebrow raised. “Disclosure discussion,” he confirms.

“Want in?” “I might say something upsetting,” Roxana says.

“I’d have to watch my words.” “Someone’s always upset,” Mr. Danvers says, laughing.

“As long as it’s not classified, you’re fine.

It could be fun.” “Okay, I’ll join for a bit,” Roxana says.

“Did you order pizza?” “About to,” he says.

“What else?” “Wings, breadsticks, onion rings, fried zucchini, extra ranch,” Roxana lists. “Yes, ma’am, the works,” Mr. Danvers says.

“How you eat twice my weight and stay so slim is beyond me.” --- ### UFO Disclosure Group The dining room buzzes with the UFO disclosure group, pizza boxes stacked high, the air tangy with marinara and ranch.

Bill Johnson, a grizzled skeptic, leans back in his chair. “Five percent, max,” Bill says.

“The rest is nonsense.

Year after year, ‘disclosure’s imminent.’ It’s 2025, and still nothing but the same old lies.” “Disinformation, delusion, or clickbait,” Jennifer Mason adds.

“Decades on, this community still falls for it.

You sift through to find the bits that hold up.” “There’s a kid here, Bill,” Mary Johnson says.

“Watch your language.” “Don’t mind me,” Roxana says, grabbing a wing.

“I agree with Mr.

Johnson—it’s mostly nonsense.” “How old are you, sweetie?” Mary asks.

“Any ET experiences?” “Fifteen,” Roxana says.

“And yes, plenty.” “Careful, Roxana,” Mr. Danvers warns. “It’s fine, Dad,” Roxana says, grinning.

“I’m Catholic, once considered being a nun.

I’ve experienced God, Jesus, angels, and a few demons.

None are from Earth, so aren’t they ETs? If the Bible’s right, ETs have been here as long as humans.” “We know Jesus and angels,” Bill says.

“But have you met them face-to-face? That’s the disclosure we want—up close.” “Jesus is here now,” Roxana says.

“I feel Him.

Demons? Met them in dreams—Jesus chased them off.

Angels? Met one in the flesh, awake.

It’s my private disclosure.

I can’t prove it.” “That’s key,” Jennifer says.

“Millions have private disclosures—sightings, contacts, abductions.

Maybe that’s all we get, one person at a time.

Mass disclosure might never happen.” “For this group,” Mr. Danvers says, “we focus on mass disclosure.

Private ones vary, subjective.

Mass disclosure would be one story, undeniable, for everyone.” “Pressuring governments and military hasn’t worked,” Brenda Gonzales says.

“It’s not our choice—it’s the visitors’.

They could’ve disclosed a thousand years ago or today.

They choose not to.” “Mass disclosure happened millennia ago,” Jennifer says.

“They were gods, walking among us.

As technology surged in the Renaissance, they retreated, revealing themselves only to a few.” “Follow the money,” Bill says.

“Who profits from disclosure? Not visitors, government, or military.

It’s us, the little people, but we lack the trillions to force it.

For true disclosure, it must profit the powerful or cost them if they hide it.” “Exactly,” Mr. Danvers says.

“The UFO narrative, like global warming or opioids, is politicized and monetized.

We need a narrative where disclosure is the only path to profit.

I can’t crack it, but let’s put it in our collective consciousness and see what emerges.” “Roxana, does the Catholic Church believe in UFOs as aliens?” Jennifer asks. “The Vatican archives have centuries of UFO documents,” Roxana says.

“I don’t know their conclusions, but aliens aren’t just from other planets.

They could be spirits, interdimensional beings, time travelers—things we can’t imagine.

Many don’t need ships.

Maybe they’ve always been here, unseen.

The Church sees them as God’s children, some righteous, some evil, like us.” “Religions worldwide mention star visitors,” Jennifer says.

“But we need hard evidence now—who they are, why they’re here.

As a spacefaring species, we need their technology to survive our planet’s crises.” “If they wanted to share, they would’ve by now,” Mary says.

“Are they waiting for profit, like Bill said?” “Disclosure comes when Jesus returns,” Roxana says.

“He’ll separate the sheep from the goats, sending most visitors away.

That could be 2,000 years off—or 20,000.

Until then, only private disclosures.” “Your Catholic perspective’s unique, Roxana,” Brenda says.

“I’d love to talk with a visitor.” “It’s tough,” Roxana says.

“I’m a sensitive empath, like many my age.

I feel Jesus, recognize angels in human form, sense visitors.

Their thoughts are alien—so different we lack words to connect.

They’re often machine-like, emotionless, finding our feelings baffling.

That’s why mass disclosure hasn’t happened.” “Describe the difference,” Mr. Danvers says. “Imagine an island culture,” Roxana says.

“Their life is fishing, hunting, farming, watching weather, worshipping water spirits.

Their language only covers that.

Try discussing anything else—they can’t grasp it.

Visitors are like that—their existence, beliefs, tech are beyond our words.

We’re a mystery to them too.

Disclosure’s impossible.” “Not all are like that,” Brenda says.

“Some are like us, right?” “Some *are* us,” Roxana says.

“Not everyone in this town was born on Earth.

Hybrids exist too—humans tweaked to bridge us and them.” “Robert!” Jennifer exclaims.

“You’ve hidden this girl from us? How does she know this?” “I’m as shocked as you,” Mr. Danvers says.

“Roxana’s Aileen’s best friend, like a sister.

I knew she studied esoteric texts for her faith, but not this depth about visitors.” “Is Aileen a sensitive empath?” Brenda asks. “Yes,” Roxana says.

“So are Ella, Patricia, Margaret.

We meditate together to hone our skills.” “What’s a sensitive versus intuitive empath?” Mary asks. “A sensitive feels, hears, or smells emotions, connecting deeply,” Roxana says.

“An intuitive interprets, reading body language, but that’s risky.

Intuition blends with imagination, potentially channeling harmful entities.

As a Christian, I stick to sensitivity.

Intuition needs caution to avoid deception.” “You’re incredible,” Mary says.

“Kids today are different—advanced.

Disclosure isn’t from politicians or military; it’s through our children, right here.” “It’s also at UFO hotspots, vortexes,” Brenda says.

“But their videos show lights blinking, not true disclosure.

I want them to land, step out, engage.” “Would you and your friends join our group?” Bill asks.

“Your perspective’s vital.

We’ll buy all the pizza you can eat.” “My friends wouldn’t be comfortable,” Roxana says.

“I’ll drop in when I’m here.

Speaking of pizza, it’s ready—let’s eat.” --- ### Base Camp The mountain’s base camp crackles with a bonfire, its glow warming the chilly November night.

Commander Beaker and his twin daughters, Jennifer and Chloe, watch as the girls pile Bobby’s clothes and books onto the pyre. “What’s the bonfire for, Dad?” Jennifer asks. “A ritual,” Beaker says.

“Janet lost her son, Bobby, Helana’s secret love.

They believe burning his items releases them to heaven, sending them to him.” “That’s silly,” Jennifer says.

“They’re just tossing shoes and shirts in?” “I don’t buy the heaven part either,” Beaker says.

“But it’s their belief.

Burning helps them find closure.

Losing a child is unimaginable—we give them this to heal.” “When you die, Dad, I’m not burning your stuff,” Jennifer says.

“I’m selling it.” “Secondhand stores won’t take his clothes,” Chloe says.

“Not trendy enough.” --- ### The Peak The mountain peak is a frozen expanse, stars sharp above the girls’ camp.

Ella and Aileen huddle in a two-person sleeping bag, the wind howling outside their tent. “You’re so tiny, Aileen,” Ella says, shivering.

“You don’t warm me like Helana.” “You two get hot together,” Aileen teases. “Stop it,” Ella says.

“We’re not lovers.

Girls can be intimate without it being sexual.” “I’m kidding,” Aileen says.

“Everyone thinks we’re gay anyway—no boyfriends, just secret ones.

Hence the two-person bags.

Does that bug you?” “Nah,” Ella says.

“They won’t stone us like old times.” “Jealous that Helana’s with Patricia tonight?” Aileen asks. “No,” Ella says.

“Patricia’s one of us.

I’d be pissed if it was some random girl.

They bonded when Patricia guided her back from the other side.” “Patricia powered up those hills,” Aileen says.

“So delicate, yet strong.

Alien genetics?” “Must be,” Ella says.

“That straw hat looked goofy, but her skin needs it.” “Someday we’ll have husbands, maybe not even in the same city,” Aileen says.

“I want that, but I’m scared it’ll break our connection.” “I’ve been thinking about that,” Ella says.

“Helana says time and space are illusions—we’re always in the ‘here and now,’ in God’s mind.

We should meditate separately to connect there.

Let’s try tonight, reaching Roxana and Margaret.” “When we meditated with Helana and Patricia, did you see the other side?” Aileen asks. “Just fog and emptiness,” Ella says.

“A bus stop in a desert—nothing but a sign.

Not like Helana’s mom’s beach party with sand and trees.” “What about Beaker’s twins?” Aileen asks. “Pretty, nice enough,” Ella says.

“But empty.

All jobs, boyfriends, clothes, cars—robot girls.

Society does that, turns people into workers and spenders.

I hope we never do.” “We’d have without Helana,” Aileen says.

“Thank God for her.

I’m sleepy—Beaker’s feast stuffed me.

Love you.” “Love you too,” Ella says, drifting off. --- Ella’s bedroom is warm, the November night crisp outside.

At 9:00 PM MST on an early November Sunday in 2025, she opens her diary, sore but reflective.

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NEXT >> Chapter 33
Astro-Physics

Patricia, an otherworldly student with translucent skin, brings her four sisters to audit an astrophysics class at a community college where she discusses advanced concepts like superluminal travel and temporal displacement that far exceed typical curriculum. Meanwhile, Commander Beaker and project coordinator Melanie Crenshaw meet to discuss the progress of these extraordinary girls, who appear to be extraterrestrial entities being integrated into human society as part of a classified government program.

<< PREVIOUS Chapter 31
31

The story follows teenage Ella Patel, who writes about how her sister Helana's profound grief over her secret boyfriend Bobby's death has devastated their family and caused them to cancel their 15th birthday celebration. Meanwhile, Commander Beaker deals with government budget scrutiny over his secret program involving the sisters, while Helana helps Bobby's mother Janet process his belongings and reveals supernatural abilities and otherworldly origins as part of their healing process.

FIRST Chapter 0 Sleep Over

Thirteen-year-old Ella and her best friends Eileen and Roxana encounter an interdimensional being named Helana during a sleepover, who appears as different benevolent figures to each girl and reveals glimpses of their legendary futures. When Helana tries to leave after accidentally revealing herself and disrupting their timelines, Ella cleverly traps the entity by claiming authority over her domain, forcing Helana to stay as their `genie in a bottle` despite her pleas to return home.