Willowbrook Farm (The Day the Saucers Came..., Book 6) by Cora Buhlert

 

Release date: October 1, 2020

Subgenre: Alien Invasion

 

About Willowbrook Farm:

 

1956: The elderly farmer couple Bob and Mary Graham are crushed by debt and about to lose the family farm to a greedy developer.

But on the day they are supposed to be evicted, a flying saucer from outer space appears in the sky above Willowbrook Farm…

This is a short story of 2700 words or approx. 10 print pages in the The Day the Saucers Came… series, but may be read as a standalone.

 

Excerpt:

 

June 9th, 1956. Oh, I remember that day well. After all, that was the day that me and my Mary were gonna lose our farm.

We’d been working the farm for thirty years, my Mary and I. Just like my Daddy before me and his Daddy before him. But times were hard. Two harvests in a row went bad and then our cattle caught foot and mouth. So we had to borrow money from the bank, my Mary and I.

And you know how them banks are. They want their money back, with interest. A lot of interest. More than me and my Mary could pay. I tried to negotiate with the bank, of course I did. I tried to get payment deferments, deadline extensions and so on.

“At least give me until the harvest comes in,” I begged them, “Once the harvest comes in, I can pay you back, all of it.”

But the bank — or rather, Mr. Marsden, who was the bank as far as I was concerned — wasn’t willing to wait. For you see, they’d bought up the land of my neighbours and now they wanted mine as well. They wanted to build one of them new subdivisions of little box houses, every single one the same, or maybe one of them newfangled shopping malls. I don’t quite remember what it was that they wanted to build and it doesn’t matter either, because in the end, it never got built anyway.

What matters is that Mr. Marsden of the bank wanted my land and my farm. And what Mr. Marsden wanted, he got.

Our last deadline to pay back the loan and the interest had run out on May 31st. And of course, we couldn’t pay, my Mary and I, cause we didn’t have the money. I tried to get the deadline extended again, at least until the harvest came in.

But Mr. Marsden, he would hear none of it. And so he sent us one of them eviction notices, telling us we had to leave within a week.

My Mary and I, we weren’t leaving. After all, my Grandpa had come here to this land in a covered waggon in 1871. He saw the brook and the trees and the grass and said, “This right here is where I’m gonna build my farm.” And so he did.

My Grandpa built the house, too, after the log cabin he’d built at first became too small for his growing family. It was a simple house, true, but Grandma insisted that he put pretty windows in it — arched windows like those in a cathedral.

My Daddy lived in that house and worked the farm. That house is where I was born, where I met my Mary at a church social, where we got married and raised our boy until the war took him. No way in hell was I going to just give all that up.

So my Mary and I, we decided that we ain’t leaving unless they make us. And on June 9th, 1956, they were gonna make us.

 

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About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. 

Cora has been writing, since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. She is the author of the Silencer series of pulp style thrillers, the Shattered Empire space opera series, the In Love and War science fiction romance series, the Helen Shepherd Mysteries and plenty of standalone stories in multiple genres.

When Cora is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher. She also runs the Speculative Fiction Showcase and the Indie Crime Scene and contributes to the Hugo-nominated fanzine Galactic Journey. Cora is a finalist for the 2020 Hugo Award.

 

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Appletree Court (The Day the Saucers Came..., Book 3) by Cora Buhlert

 

Release date: October 1, 2020

Subgenre: Alien invasion

 

About Appletree Court:

 

1956: Bernie Stetson is a burglar, robbing suburban homes while their owners are not at home.

Bernie’s latest raid takes him to the subdivision of Shady Groves. But things quickly go wrong. First, the house Bernie is robbing turns out to be not as deserted as he thought. And then, a flying saucer from outer space appears in the sky above Shady Groves…

This is a short story of 3600 words or approx. 14 print pages in the The Day the Saucers Came… series, but may be read as a standalone.

 

Excerpt:

 

June 9th, 1956. The day the saucers came. And coincidentally, also the day I went straight for good. Not that I would ever in a million years have guessed what would happen when I got up that morning and went to work.

At the time, I was… — well, let’s not shilly-shally about it, shall we? I was a thief, a burglar. I made my living by breaking into other people’s homes, stealing their stuff and selling it.

I’d been in the business for twenty years at that point. Got started as a kid during the Great Depression, when life was hard and honest jobs were scarce. During the war, I went straight for a while and joined the army like a good patriotic all American boy. Got sent to Europe and promptly relapsed. There were simply too many homes, shops and museums to loot and no one to stop me. Hell, my commanders even encouraged me, as long as they got their cut.

Back home, I’d continued where I left off before the war. I broke into homes and shops, stole whatever caught my fancy and sold it. In ‘47, I got caught and did time in Sing Sing. Stetson, Bernie, prisoner number 26072 — that’s me.

By the time I got out, things had changed… a lot. The postwar economic boom was in full swing. People had a lot more money than before and a lot more stuff, which meant there was a lot more to steal.

And then there was that most glorious of all American inventions, the suburb. While I was doing time, they’d sprung up like weeds where they’d been only empty fields before. Street upon street and row upon row of nigh identical houses on large lots. A car in every driveway, a TV in every living room.

Best of all, those suburbs were largely deserted during the day. The husbands were at work, the kids were at school, the wives… — well, sometimes they were home, so you had to be careful. But much of the time, they were out shopping or playing bridge and tennis at the local country club with the other bored suburban wives. Or they were screwing the mailman or a vacuum cleaner salesman, while their husbands were at work.

Suburbs were pure opportunity, not just for the upwardly mobile middle classes, but also for notorious criminal elements (that’s what the judge said at my sentencing, at any rate) like me.

By the summer of ‘56, I had my raids down to an art. I’d invested some of my ill-gotten gains into a cherry red Chevrolet pick-up. I parked the pick-up on the street in broad daylight and walked right up to the house I was planning to rob as if I belonged there. I always dressed in non-descript workman’s clothes, a cap or hat pulled deep into my face, so no one would look twice at me, let alone remember me. If anybody challenged me, which happened very rarely, I was a gardener, plumber, pest control, air conditioning technician hired by the owners of the house to mow the lawn, unclog the toilet, kill off the roaches or install a new air conditioning unit. Fabulous invention that, air conditioning. Homes kept cool at the height of summer. Truly, we were living in the future, we were.

Those new suburban homes might have all sorts of fancy furnishings, but the locks on the doors were a joke. Two minutes and I was in. And then I would grab whatever I fancied, carry it out to my cherry red pick-up and drive off after I was done.

I didn’t just stick to one suburb, but I switched around, hitting Leafy Gardens one day, Magnolia Orchard the next and Placid Acres the day after. That way, I remained unpredictable enough that the coppers had a hard time tracking me. And if the ground got too hot for me in one town, I simply moved on to the next. As for the marks, their insurance paid for everything anyway.

It was a good life and an easy, but lucrative job. So of course, it couldn’t last.

 

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About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. 

Cora has been writing, since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. She is the author of the Silencer series of pulp style thrillers, the Shattered Empire space opera series, the In Love and War science fiction romance series, the Helen Shepherd Mysteries and plenty of standalone stories in multiple genres.

When Cora is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher. She also runs the Speculative Fiction Showcase and the Indie Crime Scene and contributes to the Hugo-nominated fanzine Galactic Journey. Cora is a finalist for the 2020 Hugo Award.

 

Website | Mailing list | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | YouTube | ISFDB

Azalea Avenue (The Day the Saucers Came..., Book 2) by Cora Buhlert

 

Release date: October 1, 2020

Subgenre: Alien Invasion

About Azalea Avenue:

 

1956: On the surface, Rosemary Wilson is a happily married wife and mother, enjoying a perfect life in the quiet suburb of Shady Groves. But the house on Azalea Avenue harbours a dark secret, for Rosemary’s husband Don is an abusive drunk, who vents his frustrations on Rosemary and their three children.

After nine years of abuse, Rosemary finally decides to leave Don. But her plans of escape are interrupted, first by Don coming home early from a weekend hunting trip and then by the appearance of a flying saucer from outer space in the sky above Shady Groves…

This is a novelette of 10400 words or approx. 38 pages in the The Day the Saucers Came… series, but may be read as a standalone.

Content warning for domestic violence.

Excerpt:

 

June 9th, 1956. Oh, I remember that day well. After all, that was the day that I decided to stop being a victim and become a survivor instead. It was the day that I finally decided to take my life into my own hands.

I’d gotten married at twenty-one, just after college. I’d been working as a secretary at G + M Aeronautics for only six weeks, when I met him. Donald F. Wilson, just back from the Pacific and discharged from the Marines, whereupon he’d gone to work as an engineer for G + M. He was dashing, handsome, attentive, had a good job and good prospects. In short, he was everything I’d ever wanted in a man, everything I’d been told I should want.

It was love at first sight, a true whirlwind courtship. Within three weeks we were engaged, within three months we were married.

Directly after the wedding, I quit my job at G + M. I argued at first, after all we could have used the money. But Donald was adamant that he didn’t want me working. He said having his wife work would make him feel like a failure as a man.

And since I loved him and didn’t want him to feel like a failure, I quit and devoted myself to turning our house on Azalea Avenue in the brand-new subdivision of Shady Groves into a proper home. I cooked and cleaned and baked and knitted and waved Donald good-bye, as a took off to his job at G + M every morning in his brand-new Ford Country Squire.

I spent the first two months of our marriage polishing everything in our new home to a perfect sheen and trying out every recipe in Betty Crocker’s Picture Cook Book. And Don was the perfect husband, he praised my cleaning and my cooking and showered me with flowers and gifts. And when I found out I was pregnant, I couldn’t have been happier.

Truly, I was living the American dream. But like so many dreams, it quickly turned into a nightmare.

I was six months pregnant the first time he hit me. I had felt listless and sick all day, hampered by my ever expanding belly. And because I was sick, I didn’t hear the kitchen timer go off and accidentally burned the tuna casserole.

It wasn’t badly burned, just a little bit crispy around the edges. But Don was furious. He took one look at the charred casserole, screamed at me that I was hopeless and useless. Then he slapped me across the face, so hard that I stumbled and fell.

I lay there on the black and white tiled floor of my brand-new kitchen in Shady Groves, my arms wrapped around my belly, terrified that my baby was hurt, and looked up at Don, the man I’d married, the man I barely recognised.

Don apologised at once. He told me that he didn’t know what had come over him, that he’d had a hard day at work and that he’d been looking forward to a good home-cooked meal. And when the meal turned out burned, he just lost it.

He helped me up and even drove me to the hospital to check if everything was all right with the baby. When the duty nurse asked me what had happened, Don told her I’d accidentally slipped on the floor. And the nurse — a veteran in her fifties who’d probably seen more pain than most of us will in a lifetime — gave me that strange, sad look and said, “Well, if you say so, ma’am.”

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Apple | Google Play | Smashwords | Scribd | DriveThru | Thalia

About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. 

Cora has been writing, since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. She is the author of the Silencer series of pulp style thrillers, the Shattered Empire space opera series, the In Love and War science fiction romance series, the Helen Shepherd Mysteries and plenty of standalone stories in multiple genres.

When Cora is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher. She also runs the Speculative Fiction Showcase and the Indie Crime Scene and contributes to the Hugo-nominated fanzine Galactic Journey. Cora is a finalist for the 2020 Hugo Award.

 

Website | Mailing list | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | YouTube | ISFDB

Double Feature (The Day the Saucers Came... Book 5) by Cora Buhlert

Release date: April 5, 2016

Subgenre: Alien invasion

About Double Feature: 

 

1956: Judy is the designated town slut of Stillwater Creek. After getting thrown out of a sock hop at the local high school, Judy winds up going to the movies with bad boy Hank instead, where a science fiction double feature is playing. However, before the first reel of the second movie is through, the night is interrupted by a very real invasion of flying saucers from outer space…

This is a novelette of 8500 words or approx. 30 print pages. 

Excerpt:

Hank picked just this moment to nuzzle my neck, a mirror image of what the portentous guy was doing to his newly wed wife. Only that Hank’s hands were roaming under my sweater again, something that no man, no matter how square-jawed and heroic, would ever dare do in the movies.
“They’ve got the right idea,” Hank mumbled, “This is boring.”
I had to agree with him. If I watched a movie called Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, I wanted flying saucers and a lecture about satellites and three-stage rockets.
So I made out with Hank some more, while the portentous guy droned on and on, until he was finally drowned out by a whirring sound.
Hank and I didn’t much care. We were busy.
We finally had to come up for air — just in time to see that the car of Mr. and Mrs. Portentous was being assaulted by a flying saucer.
“Whoa,” I exclaimed and jumped in my seat just a little.
“Now that’s more like it,” Hank said, “Hmm, racing against a flying saucer, now that would be a coup.”
On the screen, Mrs. Portentous stammered, “Did… did I just see a flying saucer?”
I sighed. Not very smart, was she?
“Yes, you did, nitwit,” I said, “We saw it, too.”
Hank began nuzzling my neck again, while Mr. and Mrs. Portentous argued about whether the clearly visible flying saucer that had just attacked their car had really been a flying saucer.
I never learned whether Mr. and Mrs. Portentous eventually agreed that what they had seen had really been a flying saucer. Nor did I ever learn how the movie ended or who won, Earth or the flying saucers. Because at just that moment, the doors to the auditorium were flung open and Charlie and Freddy appeared, running down the aisle and waving their hands.
“Guys, guys, you’ve got to see this! It… it’s a flying saucer!”
Hank turned around, clearly annoyed.
“No need to yell. We’re watching the movie, you know?”
“No. I mean… it’s a flying saucer,” Charlie repeated, “A real flying saucer. Outside.”
At first, I thought it was some kind of publicity stunt. After all, my Mom had told me how when she was pregnant with me, she’d heard on the radio that aliens had landed in New Jersey and were attacking the country. It sounded totally real and my Mom got so scared that she promptly went into labour. But then it turned out that it was all a hoax, just a publicity stunt to promote a radio play and that there really weren’t any aliens, neither in New Jersey or elsewhere.
“Oh please,” I said, “You don’t think we’re going to fall for that one, do you?”
“And now shut up and let us watch the movie in peace or I’ll give you a load of knuckle sandwich,” Hank added.
“No, it’s true — really, it is,” Freddy replied. His cheeks were reddened with excitement, highlighting his pimples. “There’s a flying saucer right outside above the town square. It’s huge…” His hands stretched out like those of a fisherman bragging about the size of the fish he’d caught. “…and really, you’ve got to see for yourselves.”
With that, Freddy ran out of the auditorium again, followed by Charlie.
Hank and I exchanged a glance, while on the screen, Mr. and Mrs. Portentous had moved on to some kind of laboratory setting.
“It’s probably nothing, but…”
“Can’t hurt to take a look,” Hank completed, “And besides, the movie is boring anyway. And a real life flying saucer is cooler than a movie.”
“You don’t honestly believe that there’s a real flying saucer out there, do you?”
“Nope.” Hank shrugged. “But it would be cool.”

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About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. Cora has been writing since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. When she is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher.

Website | Mailing list | Twitter | Google+ | tsu

 

Lovers' Lane (The Day the Saucers Came... Book 4) by Cora Buhlert

Release date: March 26, 2016

Subgenre: Alien Invasion

About Lovers' Lane:

 

1956. After a sock hop at the local high school gym, teenagers Betty and Cody drive out to Lovers' Lane together. Betty knows only too well that good girls don't go to Lovers' Lane with boys. But Cody is her one true love and besides, he swore that he'd love her forever or may he be struck down where he stands. But then, an alien invasion shows Betty just what Cody's word is truly worth…

This is a short story of 6200 words or approx. 20 print pages. 

Excerpt:

 

The radio gave out first, static drowning out Mickey Mantle’s latest home run, before it suddenly went dead altogether.
I sighed under my breath. It was going to be a long night.
Next came the humming, a low and ominous rumble in the distance, like an oncoming thunderstorm.
Finally came the light, brilliant, blinding, streaming in through the windows and blanking out the night sky, almost as if we’d parked right next to a floodlight.
“Crap,” I thought, “It’s the cops.”
For the cops sometimes patrolled Lovers’ Lane and shone into the parked cars with their flashlights. And now they’d found us, Cody and me, doing sinful and dirty things here at Lovers’ Lane. And everyone would know…
My poking and the radio dying hadn’t woken up Cody, but the light did. He suddenly jerked upright, banging against the steering wheel in the process, and stared out of the car window, blinking against the lights.
“What… the… hell?”
I was still pinned underneath Cody, so I couldn’t see. “Is… is it the cops?” I whispered.
Cody shook his head. “No. Something a lot weirder.”
He shifted aside, so I could finally sit up, could finally see. So I crawled right up to the driver’s side window and pressed my nose against the glass.
“Oh my freaking God!”
For there, hanging in the night sky above the town, was a flying saucer, a bona-fide flying saucer. It was enormous, its diameter easily eclipsing the entire town, and lit up like a Christmas tree all over. On its bottom, there were more lights, gigantic spotlights brighter than the floodlights at the Yankee Stadium in far off New York City, where Mickey Mantle was probably still scoring home runs. And all of those lights were trained on the town, lighting up the streets brighter than the sun on a midsummer noon.
We both scrambled out of the car. I pulled up my panties and smoothed down my skirt or rather I tried, for my best dress was hopelessly wrinkled by now. Even worse, the once pristine white organdy skirt was now marred by an ugly bloodstain. I swore under my breath. Of all the stupid times to get my period.
I hoped, prayed that Cody wouldn’t notice. But I needn’t have worried, for Cody’s attention was riveted on the UFO floating above the town.
Together, we stepped up right to the very edge of Sighing Pine Ridge and looked out across the town below and the saucer hovering above.
Under the bright spotlights of the saucer, we could see the people of the town running about in the streets, looking so much like those little miniature toy figurines in my little brother’s train set.
Occasionally, beams of red light would stab down from the underside of the saucer. They looked quite beautiful really, surprisingly beautiful. When one of those beams hit the street, it would explode in a shower of gravel and dust. But should they hit a building instead, that building would suddenly burst into flames.
“Death rays,” Cody whispered, “They’ve got death rays.”
“More like fire rays,” I whispered back.
They were doing their job, too, for several houses in town were already in flames. The general store was burning, the first Baptist church, the movie theatre and the bank as well as several homes. Another beam stabbed down from the saucer and the gas station exploded in a shower of sparks and flames, hurling cars all over the street. One hit the front of the post office and got stuck halfway through the red brick façade.
“Oh shit!” Cody suddenly exclaimed and it was testament to the fact how extraordinary the whole situation was that I wasn’t even shocked by this display of profanity.
“That’s my house.” He pointed at a spot down in the valley. “And it’s on fire.”

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Apple | Scribd | 24 Symbols | Smashwords | DriveThru | OmniLit/ARe 

 

About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD. Cora has been writing since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. When she is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher.

Website | Mailing list | Twitter | Google+ | tsu