After chanting the ritual described in the cluttered pages of the grimoire, I began to relies the creature I have summoned. The trees rattle like twigs in mud, and the earth shutters a ghostly shriek.

Running to my mom’s car, I power it on. The reliable, white Honda Civic sputters to life, and I leave the area. Behind me, I see a shadow eclipse the moon, It’s outline raises above even the tree line.

“Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it,” I repeat to myself. I’ve read cosmic horrors like these can drive a person to insanity. Good thing I googled it!

Speedily, my mom’s car ran along the country road, and I knew I would be on the news in this morning.

‘Local monster hunter proves eldritch horrors exist!’ I could imagine the titles and coverage now. Channel 9 is going to be all over this, and Mom will be so proud!

Now I just need to figure out one little detail: How do I pacify an angry and evil elder god?

These others will fall from the sky With their rickety legs And razor teeth And consume us all at once.

Us, with our toy weapons And single minded ways Will do nothing but let them take us Let them wrap their jaws around our bodies and eat.

With all this practice Fighting one another tooth and nail You’d think we’d be prepared But a meal already cut and divided Is all the more easier to digest.

‘Funny, look at this!’ I stopped editing the newsreel and squinted, trying to figure out what Francesca wanted me to see. She paused the video and pointed at one of the aliens. ‘There,’ she said.

The huge insect-like figures, clad in silk robes, strode across the square, alongside human dignitaries and military officials in ceremonial uniform.

The video was Francesca’s footage of the “G20+” inauguration, which had taken place a few hours earlier. An historical event, the first official meeting involving an alien race.

Despite the media’s pessimistic predictions, dialogue between our species was already underway. The size of the aliens had initially caused much general concern. But diplomatic delegations had met in orbit, exchanging messages thanks to Google-based translation softwares.

Who would have thought those enormous, arachnid-shaped extraterrestrials would manifest expressions of peace and respect? Not many of us, but the news was immediately welcomed by the UN Secretary General, Guterres, in an open letter published in the New York Times. Many of the Heads of State in Rome for the Summit, had echoed Guterres’s words in press releases and tweets. The Pope himself had acclaimed the arrival of these ‘distant relatives’ during the Sunday Angelus.

Hosting an “Inter-World Summit” within the G20 framework in the Eternal City seemed auspicious. A plus sign was added to the G20 logo in honour of the extraterrestrials.

There was no building large enough to host the meetings, the aliens were simply too big. So the venue chosen was the Olympic Stadium. Massive crowds converged on the edge of the Tiber. Thousands of curious citizens, pilgrims, protesters, swaying in a formless mass, had been giving the police a hard time.

‘Look carefully at how they walk,’ Francesca’s finger tapped on the screen. ‘It’s awkward.’ I could see now. Though the robes hid most of the asymmetrical bodies, the clunky movement was evident. They proceeded clumsily. Two legs tripped against each other, while the third intervened to prevent falling. ‘Precarious,’ was the word that came to my mind. ‘Unstable,’ Francesca said. I returned swiftly to my newsreel, which was almost due.

In my report I underlined how the G20+ talks proceeded with few points of discord. My press contact at the Foreign Office informed me that the arachnids shared human concerns on climate change. They too had issues due to excessive exploitation of natural resources. So they were particularly interested in our calls to action on sustainable development goals.

Potentials for trade emerged. Apparently resources which were particularly scarce on earth flourished on the extraterrestrial planet and vice-versa. The sullen newcomers appeared benevolent and well disposed. It looked like we were destined to co-exist and collaborate in perfect harmony.

The talks came to an end and the ‘Rome Planet Pact’ was drafted. An opera to celebrate the signing was out of the question, for logistical reasons. But the Rome Film Festival was due that week, with projections dedicated to the silent film era. An open air projection of a historical silent comedy film in the marvelous location of the Baths of Caracalla, seemed like a perfect occasion.

There was much excitement. The authorities and international stars and guests took their seats in a very festive atmosphere. Speeches of welcome and expectation by the Mayor and the Festival’s president opened this very special night to the general appreciation of all present.

As the first black and white images appeared on the large screen, the first laughs sounded across the audience, with Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy fumbling and tripping over each other.

The alien representatives were seated in the front rows as guests of honour. As the audience participation and the laughs intensified, their faces changed colour. A vibration occurred between their eyes. Their oyster-shaped mouths twisted into a strange grimace. Was this their way of laughing? Or was this some other emotion that we humans could not yet interpret?

Alas, it was no laughter.

The arachnids’ rage ripped through the air. Their wrath wiped out everything like a shock wave. Vessels dived down from earth’s orbit and devastated cities, towns, villages. Little could our conventional weapons do against the power of the arachnids’ force. Humanity was decimated in a few days.

A couple of months had passed when I met Francesca in the Metro Ottaviano shelter, yet we looked twenty years older. The muffled rumble of the detonations echoed from above ground. The war against the aliens was raging on. We embraced, Francesca’s hand touched mine. At that moment I remembered her finger tapping on a video screen, on a day which seemed like years ago. ‘Of course…’ I exclaimed, grabbing her index finger. Francesca looked at me, puzzled. ‘You had seen it. The single most important thing… the reason!’ She looked at me, wide-eyed. My jaw dropped. Images of the G20+ opening ceremony unraveled in my mind. The aliens striding across the square. Their struggling, irregular legs, stumbling…

Traveling inconceivable distances, they had come across our strange blue planet. Here they found words of peace, respect, dialogue, exchanges, a future of collaboration, the preservation of nature…

Seated amidst the wondrous ruins of Caracalla at the Film Festival, the arachnids could not believe what was happening. On the enormous silver screen, people were falling, hurting themselves, tripping over, tumbling to the ground, humiliated. Yet the human audience around them was noisily laughing their heads off, almost in tears.

Thus the demise of the human race. Almost completely wiped out now by the fury of the arachnids. Cities on fire, seas boiling, mountains crumbling under thick smoke and a blacked out sky.

So it had come to pass that it was Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy who had been, somewhat remarkably, responsible for the end of the world.

Screams filled the air as the ground shook. I looked around frantically as building began to crumble, running to avoid instant death as debris fell and crashed into itself. The sirens had begun to sound about 10 minutes prior to the shaking but we all just thought it was an earth quake which would have been bad enough given the intensity. It wasn’t until everything around us began to fall apart and be crushed by not only the sheer force of the vibrating earth, and the rocks the had spewed from the hot earth, flying into houses, cars, and even people that we realized it was much more. We were very far away from it as it began to rise from the hell like chaos, but anyone within a 200 mile radius would see this monstrosity clearly. I don’t believe in heaven or hell but how or where this thing came from was a mystery, a mystery that would change the world forever but I refused to die before passing on information of how it came to be and hopefully how to destroy it if more come, assuming it can be destroyed.

The world is ending. We cannot stop it. This is not the only monster to appear ... there are so many others ... and they won’t stop coming. Something is wrong with the sea, as it’s slowly shrinking, because whatever’s been sleeping deep beneath the surface is rising. The world for us is about to end, the life we know will come to an end.

50 years. 50 long years of being Put into our place.

When the first one appeared we gunned it down. I remember that day, I wasn’t prepared for that. Hearing it scream loudly out of its two mouths while it gurgled and slumped to the ground. My gun was empty and my uniform covered in the creatures blood. We thought that was the end of it.

2 days later, twenty more appeared from the ground off Britain. After a battle with tanks and helicopters against giant, ancient beasts with claws razor sharp and teeth strong as metal we lost with a tragic loss of life. The survivors of the battle knelt down before them. After all they were here before us.

10 years later. Electricity and running water disappeared. No medicine or professions. No class or society. Everyone fights for there own life now and will do anything to survive. Our every move watched by them. The world was no longer ours. Over three quarters of the population has died. Either executed, starved or illness. There were no leaders but them. No mercy except theirs. Our life was given to them and we must trust that or we to will die.

50 years and a whole generation has been bought up knowing that these monsters control our life. I’m old now and dying with nobody to care. I see them watch me as I walk to my tent. They know what’s happening to me and there is a relief. One less person for them to lead and closer to there once planet being rightfully there’s again.