Ella`s Story
My Love From The Future
BOOK SIX

Chapter 3 : Short Story

Episode 56 : January 16 2023 Monday grade 12

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

Jumping Forward To Look Back A Short Story by Ella Patel January 16, 2023 - Writing Class 201

Okay, I`m finally doing it.

Everyone keeps telling me I should, so here I am—writing my book.

It`s sort of an autobiography, but mainly just a collection of memories, most of them preserved in my diary.

I would have forgotten nearly everything without those twenty-seven volumes accumulated over the years. So, where am I? I`m still in the same little New England town where I`ve spent my entire life.

It`s 2063 now.

How time flies.

I turned fifty-seven last year, though I don`t feel old—just tired.

Very tired.

Old and weary, but not yet ready to retire. Let me skip the mundane details and get to what everyone keeps asking about: the Crash, and the girl.

That was ten years ago, but I still field questions constantly.

I suppose it`s safe to discuss now, since everyone involved has moved on.

Besides, it`s not like anyone will actually read this book anyway. We were having dinner in the backyard with my extended family—my whole crew was there with their children, plus my kids and a menagerie of dogs and cats to keep things lively.

Suddenly, Helena straightened in her chair.

"Someone`s in trouble," she announced, her voice tight with concern.

"I can feel it." Helena serves as our town`s unofficial psychic, able to sense things the rest of us miss entirely.

She`s also a licensed psychologist with a practice at the local hospital, but she does psychic readings on the side—a combination that makes her invaluable to our community. None of us understood what she meant until we saw a streak of light tear across the darkening sky, followed by a brilliant flash—like an explosion—somewhere in the dense woods not far from town.

Helena, Patricia, and I volunteered to investigate.

My background in astrophysics and Patricia`s experience in the Space Force before retirement made us feel qualified to determine if we were looking at a downed spacecraft.

Helena insisted on coming because she wanted to check on whoever was in distress. The trek through the woods took over an hour.

The forest is incredibly dense out there, with no established trails—just endless brush bristling with long, vicious thorns and hook-shaped barbs that snag your clothes and refuse to let go.

When we finally approached the crash site, we found dozens of hover craft circling overhead while black-booted operatives swarmed the ground below.

We called them "black boots" because they wore shiny black combat boots instead of the standard-issue green ones worn by regular military personnel.

Clearly, this was a classified operation—but whose? Throughout my lifetime, there`s been constant speculation about alien visitors and imminent government disclosure regarding recovered craft and extraterrestrial remains.

Nothing concrete has ever materialized.

Plenty of people share stories about their encounters, but physical evidence remains elusive—at least, none that we civilians can access.

I know the visitors are real; I`ve seen and spoken with them myself.

But they`re careful, never leaving traces behind, so there`s no point trying to convince skeptics.

I`ll save that discussion for another chapter. Armed personnel with military rifles turned us back, so we began the journey home.

We figured we might catch something on the news channels later, though probably not.

About halfway back, Helena suddenly stopped, her eyes going distant in that way that meant she was receiving what she calls a "psychic hit." We followed her to a cluster of oak trees where she called out, "I know you`re in there.

You might as well come out—we`re not going to hurt you." Then we all heard it—not with our ears, but directly in our minds: "I`m hurt.

I can barely walk.

Please don`t let the black boots find me." Patricia immediately reached behind the largest tree and helped a young woman limp into view.

She appeared to be about twenty, though she might have been younger—possibly still a teenager. "You`re telepathic," Helena observed matter-of-factly. "Where are you from?" I added. "I`m from here," the girl replied, switching to spoken words.

"I was trying to get home, but the reactor flamed out and I had to eject." "Are you Space Force?" Patricia demanded.

"You`re not wearing a uniform.

Did you steal that craft?" "No—not exactly stole it.

It`s my dad`s ship.

I sort of borrowed the keys." The girl`s voice carried the universal tone of a teenager caught in mischief.

"My boyfriend lives around here, and I was sneaking out to see him.

My dad doesn`t approve of him." "Let`s get you back to my house and tend to those injuries," I suggested.

"Do we need to take you to the hospital?" "No!" Her response was sharp, almost panicked.

"I can`t go to a human hospital.

But some antiseptic and bandages should handle it." I moved closer to help her walk, then stopped cold.

As our eyes met, a chill raced up my spine. "Chessa? Is that you?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

"What the hell, girl? Where have you been all these years? I used to change your diapers.

You were my little girl, and then you and your mom just...

disappeared." "Chessa?" Helena echoed, her voice warm with recognition.

"Remember me?" Tears sprang to Chessa`s eyes as she threw herself into my arms, then Helena`s. "That`s the baby who lived in your house?" Patricia asked, bewildered.

"That was thirty years ago, and this girl looks like she`s barely out of middle school." "Her mom was the same way," I explained.

"Ash was in her thirties but could easily pass for sixteen." Ash had been a building contractor specializing in emergency shelters.

There was a major shelter movement back then, driven by fears of nuclear conflict and coronal mass ejections from an increasingly unstable sun.

Those fears proved warranted when the magnetic pole shift left us vulnerable—even minor solar flares would hit Earth`s surface with devastating force.

Fortunately, we avoided nuclear war entirely. Ash`s family—her husband and baby Chessa—had stayed with me for several years while she took orders for custom shelters and supervised the excavation work.

Ash became one of my closest friends, practically a sister.

Then one day, she announced they were finished and packed up to leave.

She`d always been secretive about her origins and offered no hints about their destination.

I missed them both terribly—Chessa had been like my own daughter.

I was still in high school then, but I`d gained invaluable experience with childcare: diaper changes, formula preparation, the whole routine. "So how old are you really?" Patricia pressed. "Do the math," Chessa replied with a grin.

"I was a baby thirty years ago, so I`m thirty." Patricia laughed.

"I remember you now.

Even back then, you had an attitude." We brought Chessa home and cleaned her wounds.

My mother nearly fainted when we walked through the door—she`d adored Chessa like her own granddaughter.

Actually, I think Mom loved Chessa more than she loved me.

She immediately took charge of the bandaging, refusing to let anyone else near her precious girl. Once Chessa was settled and comfortable, the interrogation began. "All right, young lady," I started, "you`d better tell us the truth, because Helena here is psychic and serves as our lie detector.

You claim that`s your father`s craft, but those are restricted vehicles.

Regular civilians don`t get to fly around in them.

Is your dad military? A politician?" Chessa`s eyes filled with tears.

"I`m sorry, Aunt Ella, but there are things I`m not supposed to discuss.

I`m already in enormous trouble—I can`t make it worse, or I`m dead." "Where are your parents now?" Patricia wanted to know. "I`m not supposed to say." She turned to Helena with a pained expression.

"Please stop probing my mind.

It hurts to block you." Patricia studied Chessa with a calculating stare.

"What did you mean when you said you couldn`t go to a human hospital?" Chessa went pale.

"Oh—I didn`t mean to phrase it like that.

I just meant I couldn`t go to a hospital because they`d call my parents, and that would be the end of my life." Helena approached Chessa and gently took her hands, looking deeply into her eyes.

"Chessa, sweetheart, you remember your Aunt Helena, don`t you? I`m a psychologist and a psychic, so I read people quite well.

You`re concealing significant information and lying to us.

You`re thirty years old but behaving like an out-of-control teenager.

You need to tell us what`s really happening so we can help you.

We`re on your side.

Ella, Patricia, and I all have deep, dark secrets we can`t discuss.

We understand the importance of discretion—anything you share stays within this room." Chessa broke down completely.

I held her until she could speak through the tears. "I`m so sorry," she whispered.

"I really messed up.

If they discover what I`ve done, I`ll be banned from the colony—and probably my parents too." "The colony?" Aileen asked as she and Roxanna entered from the kitchen, where they`d been cleaning up after dinner. "If you need legal representation, Aileen`s here to save the day," Roxanna added with a chuckle. "I think I`m going to need more than a lawyer," Chessa said miserably. "I remember you, Aunt Aileen and Aunt Roxanna," she continued.

"I was only three or four, but I remember." Aileen immediately shifted into attorney mode.

"Let`s review what we know.

You stole your father`s hover craft—not just a family vehicle, but a restricted military-grade ship—and crashed it.

You refused treatment at a `human` hospital.

You live in some kind of secret colony where you can be banned for revealing information.

And you`re telepathic." She paused dramatically.

"This all confirms what we suspected thirty years ago." "You suspected?" Chessa asked nervously. "We`re not stupid," Patricia interjected.

"I have plenty of secrets about my own origins, and Ella has enough classified information to fill an encyclopedia.

We know how to be discrete.

We don`t discuss these matters outside our crew.

But you`ve created a serious problem, little girl.

Government black ops now have a stolen craft from some secret colony and a missing pilot who ejected.

They`re going to come looking for you.

We need to develop a plan to keep you safe until we can get you home—hopefully without triggering that ban.

You`ll have to deal with your parents on your own, though.

I know your mother.

You may be too old for spanking, but you`re definitely getting a serious lecture." Chessa began crying again.

"I`m dead.

I`m totally dead." "`Totally`?" Aileen laughed.

"I haven`t heard that expression in decades.

You must be watching classic movies.

Now, tell me about this boyfriend.

Is he from a secret colony too?" "I don`t want to get him in trouble.

They probably won`t let me see him anymore anyway." I couldn`t help laughing.

"Chessa, I know your mother`s attitude—her tendency to do whatever she wanted regardless of consequences.

You`re definitely her daughter.

You know you`re going to see him again no matter what they say.

So let`s figure out how to make that happen without getting you both banned." We talked and strategized until the early morning hours.

Then we tucked her into my daughter`s room—my daughter was away at college, so we used it as a guest room—and everyone crashed for the night.

The crew spending the night felt like old times, with kids spread across the living room floor.

Having Chessa here brought back so many memories.

I`d missed that little girl tremendously over the years, constantly wondering how she was doing.

I`d been terrified when I couldn`t find her or her parents on any social media platforms, fearing something terrible had happened.

Now I could finally sleep peacefully, knowing she was safe—in trouble and acting like a total brat, but safe nonetheless. As expected, black boots and federal agents began canvassing town, asking questions about strangers.

They checked hospitals and interviewed police.

We kept Chessa hidden indoors and out of sight.

We attempted to contact her parents, but Chessa had lost her phone—apparently a specialized device—and both she and Helena found their telepathic abilities blocked.

So we waited. The town grew suspicious.

They`d always harbored suspicions about me and my crew, dating back to high school when rumors circulated about our involvement in strange incidents.

During our ROTC years, people suspected we were spies.

Later, they wondered if we were connected to organized crime.

Now that we were older and graying, we`d become less interesting—until Chessa`s arrival.

With government operatives swarming the area, we started receiving those familiar stares again.

Nobody said anything directly, but we could tell they suspected our involvement in the forest crash. After about a month, someone knocked on our door—surprising, since Chessa and Helena had established a telepathic shield around the house.

Only someone who knew how to penetrate such defenses could have gotten through. I opened the door to find an elderly man with a walking cane.

"Hello, I`m Mr.

Roberts.

I need to speak with Chessa." Chessa came running from the kitchen and threw her arms around him.

"Can I go home now? Are my parents angry?" Mr.

Roberts`s expression grew somber.

"I`m sorry, Chessa, but you can`t return home.

You`ve been banned.

It took considerable pleading with the elders to allow your parents to remain.

You`ve caused significant diplomatic problems between the colonies and topside governments.

The elders are still working to resolve that mess." Chessa collapsed to the floor in tears.

When she could finally speak, she asked, "What am I supposed to do? Where can I go?" Mr.

Roberts explained that he`d negotiated an arrangement with the elders.

Her boyfriend, distraught over Chessa`s banishment, had caused such a disturbance in his own colony that he`d gotten himself banned as well.

The elders had agreed to allow Chessa and her boyfriend to live together "topside"—here in our town—with me supervising them until they matured and established themselves.

They trusted us to keep their secrets.

The repeated use of "topside" suggested their colonies were underground, which made sense given Ash`s expertise in excavation and underground construction. Over the following years, we helped Chessa marry her boyfriend—a genuinely nice young man—and found them an apartment and jobs in town.

Both attended the community college where I continued teaching.

The townspeople stared initially, but eventually lost interest.

While it was sad that Chessa couldn`t have her wedding ceremony in the colony, we threw them a wonderful celebration here. Chessa and her family—she now has several daughters—became part of my extended family.

She`s still my little girl.

We spent countless hours together before they eventually moved to another state.

My own daughters harbor some jealousy, but they love her too.

Chessa refers to her daughters as her "little hybrids." I`m not sure what that means, and frankly, I`m afraid to ask. "I love it! I absolutely love it!" Asherina exclaims after reading Ella`s story.

"I think you might have revealed slightly too much, but it`s fiction—nobody`s going to believe it anyway." "Thanks," Ella replies.

"I hope my teacher appreciates it.

I have to submit it today." "By the way," Asherina continues, "your story might be somewhat prophetic.

I do need to discuss shelters with you.

We can house many people in tunnels and underground facilities, but there are simply too many.

We could significantly increase underground capacity by building additional shelters.

We should speak with your commander about launching a media campaign to popularize them.

The ones you built decades ago won`t suffice for what`s coming, but we have designs that will work." "I hope my story isn`t prophetic about Chessa," Ella says.

"I characterized her as a little brat, but I assumed that was just fiction." "Oh no," Asherina laughs.

"She`s absolutely my daughter, so being a brat is completely expected.

But thank you for the story—now I know to keep those keys in a very safe place."