Strange Uncle

The Challenge:

Write about a strange relative.  Here are a few random words, to incorporate together into a narrative: 

book |  vessel  |  lifesaver  |  vagabond  |  bottom

Here’s my attempt…

________________________

war of the worlds

My uncle is a strange one.  I mean he was really something once upon a time—way back, during the war, he had been a hero, a true lifesaver.  Many owe their lives to him.

After the war, he wrote a book about an alien invasion. He wrote convincingly, with strong conviction, as though it was non-fiction.  In fact, it read more like a well-written history, than a science fiction story.

Shortly after it was published, he popped a blood vessel in his brain—no one could make any sense of anything he said after that.  He quickly hit the bottom.  Now he’s a vagabond, an honest-to-God bum.  The last time I saw him he was stumbling down Main Street, clutching a ragged doll and singing softly to himself.  He didn’t recognize.  Looked right past me.  I’ve tried many times to bring him home.  But short of locking him up, he won’t stay, so I’ve given up.

I have the original manuscript of  his book.  It was delivered by mail one day, right after his aneurysm.  I read through it again this past summer and the strangest thing happened—a note I hadn’t noticed the first time, fluttered out onto the desktop.  On it, scribbled in my uncle’s scratchy hand, it read, “If you have received this manuscript, it means that they got to me.  They’ve finally shut me up.  I don’t know how, but I know that something dreadful has happened to me.  I am missing, or I’m dead, or perhaps even worse!  The aliens have so infiltrated our society, and I am no longer able to expose them.”

Imagine that!  What an old coot!