The horses were the first sign, they always were when a storm was brewing. Ben knew all too well - the frantic stomping, shrilling noises and the large wide eyes that reflected every flicker of lightning jutting dow from the darkened sky. By the time the first sound of thunder rolled across the farm, the stable was in chaos. “Easy now,” Ben whispered. His hands raised in a calming gesture that was honestly more for himself than the horses. He’d dealt with plenty of storms during his years at Hill Ridge Stables, but this one was different. He could feel it, a strange pressure in the air pressed against his skin. According to the news the storm was suppose to hit in the morning, but here it was much earlier than expected. There was just something about this storm that didn’t sit right with him. It felt wrong. It sounded wrong. Thunder was supposed to be random, but this wasn’t - this was rhythmic. Boom … pause, boom … pause, boom. Ben felt his uneasiness growing as he glanced at the horses, who’s panic had suddenly turned into something seemlingly worse. They were now quiet and completely still. That alone was enough to make the hair on the back of Ben’s neck stand up. It didn’t take long for the storm to fully arrived over the farm, and with it Ben’s thoughts shifted from the horses to trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Something wasn’t right. He moved to the center of the stable with his head slightly tilted as he intently listened to the storm. The more he listened, the clearer it became that this thunder wasn’t random. In fact each boom followed the same interval, the same cadence, the same pattern. Even the lightning seemed deliberate with the way it illuminated the far reaches of the farm in sharp, timed bursts of light. His ears twitched, the rhythmic sounds sinking into his brain with every boom and clap of thunder that rolled in. It was then he realized - it wasn’t thunder at all. It was music. He didn’t know what it meant or how it was even possible. But there were seven distinct notes repeated over and over again, hidden within the storm’s chaos. This was created, it was deliberate he thought - someone or something was sending a message. Ben’s mind ran wild with theories but he eventually called his neighbor, an old man named Lester who lived two miles down the road. He was a retired radio operator, who had spent some time in the Navy and someone Ben trusted. The phone didn’t ring long before Lester picked up. “What the hell are you talking about - sounds in the storm?” Lester asked. “It’s the thunder,” Ben said, pacing his kitchen. “It’s not thunder, Lester—it’s like music. A damn song in the middle of a storm! I can hear it, can’t you?” Lester didn’t say word and that alone made Ben believe he was indeed onto something. “Can you make you way over,” Lester asked. That was all the invitation Ben needed as he was half way down the road before he even hung up the phone. By the time Ben reached Lester’s house the old man was waiting in his garage workshop with an old beat up pair of headphones on. Lester sat at a dusty worn desk cluttered with radio equipment listening in silence, his expression unreadable. “I’ve heard this before,” Lester finally said, his voice rough and almost a whisper. Ben leaned forward. “What do you mean?” “Not these sounds exactly, but something very much like it, long ago, off the shore of the Gulf Coast. We thought it was sonar from a sub, but now...” Lester trailed off, his hands shaking slightly as he removed the headphones. “And Now?” Lester met Ben’s eyes. “Now I think it’s not human ... and I don’t think it ever was.” “What do you think it means? Ben asked Lester shock his head. “I wish I knew kid … I wish I knew” Ben quickly made his way back to the stables - the thunder rolled on, each boom shaking the barn’s wooden beams. The horses were still eerlily calm, but something within them changed suddenly they started to move. Ben stared in disbelief, as the horses begin to stomp their hooves in perfect unison with the thunder above, their movements precise and deliberate like an organized dance. “What the hell is happening?” Ben whispered. The storm grew louder, and faster - the horses matching its pace, while the lightning continued to illuminate the fields in flashes of rhythmic light. As the song and dance carried on one flash of lightning struck directly in the middle of the field revealing a shadow - no, not a shadow, a shape. A large object hanging in the clouds of the storm. Ben couldn’t believe his eyes - he was frozen stiff. The horses however, being to move to the barn doors, pushing them open. Ben tried to stop them, grabbing at the reins of his favorite mare, Aurora, but she pushed forward, half dragging him along the way. The horses eyes glowed faintly, they seemed to be in a trance fixated on the hovering shape in the sky, seemingly unafraid as they moved closer to it. All of a sudden there was a bright light that reached down from the sky but it wasn’t lightning. It was ... something else entirely. A beam of pure energy shot down from the object, enveloping the horses. One by one, the horses rose into the air, their bodies weightless, floating as they were being pulled upward. All Ben could do was stare - he instinctively shouted “No”, reaching out with his arms. “Aurora, no! Don’t take her. Come back!” But within an instant the horses disappeared into the light, leaving nothing behind but complete silence and utter darkness. As the morning light broke the horizon, the storm ceased and the farm was left still and quiet in a way that it had never been before. Ben half in a daze slowly wandered the empty barn, moving from stall to stall as his boots slouched through the mud and scattered hay. The horses were completely gone. All that remained were strange, circular scorch marks that had been imprinted into the ground where the beam of light had touched down. At the center of the largest circle, Ben found something odd—a smooth, metallic disc, the size of a dinner plate, half buried into the ground. He picked it up, the surface of it felt cool to the touch and strange symbols were etched into its surface. He examined it and as he turned it over, a sudden gust of wind blew past his ear - and he heard a faint voice within it say “They were the first. Not the last. Prepare the rest.”