My brother and I had just finished some routine yardwork on my property when that thing came plummeting landward, streaking a fiery white tail. Its impact with the ground threw me to the dirt, though my brother managed to stabilize himself with the rake he’d been using all morning. A great plume of black smoke billowed into the air, tinging the atmosphere darkly; and a smell as of rancid, half-liquified eggs wafted up from the crater. I reeled back, revolted beyond expression by the emanating stench; and my brother—whose sense of smell has never been the best—even retreated a few paces, holding his nose with his free hand.

We stood there for a few moments, waiting for the pitch-black smoke to clear, but it was like a terrible gaseous emission; spewing forth from the crater endlessly, inexhaustibly—polluting the air with its unwholesome funk. Some part of my brain urged me to call the authorities, to get more humans to the crash. Somehow, even then, I knew that I had witnessed the landfall of a Thing—hat the object which had cratered my front lawn was not merely some piece of celestial debris, but an intelligent, sapient entity.

The smoke, hazy and tenebrous, shifted a little, and my instincts and nerves recognized movement, even though my eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to haze’s outright Stygian quality. When a clawed, pustule-bestudded hand burst through the black sheen of smoke, my brother yelped, and I jumped as well; more than a little surprised by the savage yet unnervingly anthropomorphic sight.

Slowly, a figure pushed through the smoke, and the revulsion I’d felt at the sickening stench now paled in comparison to the sheer, ultra-horrific obscenity of the being before me. I felt my heartrate quicken, and my mind—wholly unprepared for such a nightmarishly multi-faceted image—began a futile attempt to recall some comparable example of a terrestrial creature; as if in comparing the two, I’d somehow be less appalled, less terrified by the xenomorphic abomination.

I heard my brother whisper, “Oh God...”, and a subsequent THUD told me that he had fainted. I would’ve turned, would’ve gone to make sure he was alright, but I was transfixed; had been rendered wholly immobile by the exosolar—if not extragalactic—entity.

The creature looked at my unconscious brother with eyes—so many eyes—aflame, each glimmering orb seeming to take in some small and specific detail, so that they could collectively compose a greater picture for the massive, skull-protruding brain. Then, with some telekinetic power, it drew the rake from my brother’s hand—catching it with one of its own indescribably fingered hands. Using one of its many appendages—none of which were connected to its inordinate and grey-fleshed torso—it examined the rake; turning it about and scanning it with its vast array of brain-embedded eyes. All the while the grey brain, with its pink striations and purpureal vein-systems, pulsed ominously, luminously; throwing off sparks of a color I still cannot properly describe. I sensed the cognitive machinations of a wholly inhuman intelligence from that cerebrum; felt, quite profoundly, that humanity and this thing shared no common cosmic link whatsoever.

After several moments of inscrutable examination and brain-throbbing analysis, it tossed the tool aside, and turned to face me. Seeing that I had nothing in my hands for it to analyze, its eyes all turned to focus on mine—and a voice, sonorous and dreadful, resonated within my mind like the thought-invading speech of some primordial god.

“Your implements of combat are crude, simple. I will conquer this planet easily if you have not yet mastered finer bladecraft. Only the sharpest of metals may cut me. Only the arrows of Ah’Zugdael may pierce my flesh. Yes, I am confident that you will be easily subdued.”

Terror spiked within me, and had I accepted my brother’s offer for a third cup of coffee earlier in the day, it probably would’ve found itself exiting my body at that moment. But then, just when I was about to plead with the extraterrestrial entity to spare my life, I realized, almost gleefully, what he’d said.

Bladecraft. Arrows.

This creature, this entity, had only come into contact with (and subsequently defeated) civilizations who’d still used arrows and blades for warfare.

My land sees a lot of wildlife, many of whom are quite bold, having no care whatsoever for the property claims of humans. Because of this, I stay armed whilst outside. I was armed at that very moment.

Concentrating, I thought, inwardly, “You think you can defeat me in combat?”

That same voice, dark, resounding, and infinitely prideful: “Yes, I am quite sure.”

I casually brought my right hand behind my back, gripping my 10mm Glock; and barely managed to contain my smile when I saw that the hideous garden of eyes—still focused on my face—had not noticed the motion.

Speaking once more, I said, “You are free to test that assumption at your convenience.”

I don’t like wildlife, vermin, or abominable cosmic gladiators on my property. And now, I have some neat (albeit slimy) ornaments for my No Trespassing Sign.