The Dyarvos Bones

I'm liking the new title and the story is coming together in a much smoother way than what I'd posted on GayDemon. Dirc is a bit snarkier but I need to punch that up. I'm not good with humor, but I'm trying...

I like this illustration by Moebius, who did some elegant work for Heavy Metal Magazine, back in the 70s and 80s. Sort of has the feel of Dyarvos' travels.

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It's funny. I called it the alien for lack of a better name...till we settled on calling it Dyarvos. Which I think sort of compares to U N Owen in its manner of communication.

Meaning, if you haven't figured it out by now, it was an ET, not some being from Satan's domain. Though it never did tell me where it’s from. Hell, it never actually told me anything. The way we communicated was, one of its whips would circle my head and tingle against my right temple, and then I knew whatever Dyarvos did, almost like I was remembering it as it remembered it.

While it had been on earth. More than that was blocked from my brain. The only other thing I knew was, it was neither male nor female; they didn't have that designation in their world.

It had developed some kind of trouble, I'm still not clear what. Earth was seen by its kind as sort of a pit-stop to go to if you needed food or fuel, both of which humans could provide. Like a 7/11. The problem was, it had crash-landed into the cave under the motel before it could send out an SOS for help, and it needed sustenance to begin rebuilding itself.

It had been lucky and caught a couple of hikers who were following the Manasseret Trail up into the hills. A trail that wasn't really popular because it was just rocks and desert. Not even pretty vistas as you went higher.

Those two were male, in their twenties, both indigenous. One with longish black hair, piercing eyes, golden skin and a fine physique. The other was more basic but still attractive, his hair longer, his face not as finely etched, and his body more average. He also had more hair on his chest, arms and legs than his compatriot.

They had camped on the hill above the cave, overlooking the old motel. No tent. Sleeping under the stars, fully clothed. Backpacks as pillows and no blanket. Really roughing it like real guys do.

Dyarvos had slipped up and wrapped its tentacles around them both. The pretty one had managed to get a knife out and cut a tentacle off, but the whips took full control of him. Both guys had been carried down to the entrance, but were struggling so hard they almost got free before they were in the ship. At first I thought Dyarvos hadn't worked out how to fully control them, yet, but then I realized it had simply been weakened by the wreck.