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By Lessy StevensTom Pierceson drove down the dirt road wearily looking for a place to park and take a nap. His job as a journalist for the LA post led him to a small town in Smallcreek, Indiana, where there had been many reports of strange lights seen in the sky the past few weeks. The sky was clear and quiet on this moonlit night, and only the rattling sound of the Chevy pickup Tom drove, could be heard. He finally spotted a clearing off to the side of the road where he could get some rest. Amy the airhead secretary of his editor forgot to book reservations at the local motel so Tom had only his car as a bed tonight. He cautiously parked the 84' Chevy in the clearing and cut the engine off."What the hell happened to my career that I getting sent to backroad towns like this." Tom muttered as he reclined in his seat.Tom continued to look up at the stars as he started to drift off to sleep... A rattle awoke Tom abruptly as he looked around startled scanning for what caused it. As he. ’ It was exactly like she had dreamed – the large oak desk, black leather chair and No! It couldn’t be! Michele’s knees shook. There was a photo album there, a brown one, sitting on the top left-hand corner of the desk. Images from last night’s dream came flooding back and she sank into the chair gratefully. OK, concentrate, you can do this. She scrabbled in the desk drawer for a pencil and grabbed a piece of paper. Gene leaned on the back of the chair, looking over her shoulder, and she felt her cheeks burn. This is not helping. Michele started to draw, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as she put her mind to the task. Gene was surprised. Within moments the form of a pool player appeared, a few more and it became clear that Michele was drawing a picture of him, perhaps how she had first seen him last night. She drew surely and efficiently, quickly outlining his form and posture. The pool table appeared as if by magic. She’s very good. Gene watched her face as she drew and.
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