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The Circle Game

Ian and Al climbed from their Transit into the dark night and opened its rear doors. They carried their ranging rods, rollers and other equipment into the ripe wheat.

Suddenly, they saw two figures in front of them. The pairs shone torches at each other.

The two women were also carrying the paraphernalia of crop-circle artists.

"We didn't know there was another team nearby," said Angela.

"We usually work at Avebury," Al replied. "I'm pleased to see more women in the sport. What were you planning tonight?"

Susan took an A4 sheet from her pocket and held it in the torch-light.

"That's very good," Al said, passing his plan to Susan. "We were going to do this."

"We'll go, and let you two carry on," said Ian.

"No," said Susan, inspecting Al's plan. "This is lovely, and it's massive. It'll really wind-up the New Age alien hunters!"

They all laughed

It was agreed that Ian and Al would stay.

There was much work in marking patterns and flattening the crop. It was nearly dawn before Al finally burned a patch of ground with a blowtorch to suggest where an alien spacecraft might have landed.

The sun was rising as Ian started the van. He flicked a switch on the dashboard that engaged the cloaking device. Now, even someone nearby would not have seen its biometallic shell morphing to reform the flight surfaces.

Such an observer might have noticed the glow of the engines as the shuttlecraft silently lifted skywards on its journey to re-join the mothership on the far side of the moon.

Story by:

Swan Morrison

swanmorrison@short-humour.org.uk

www.short-humour.org.uk/about/about.htm

14 January 2014