Something landed on the roof with a thud. The house shook, and had there been snow, well, snow would've fallen, and I would've seen it through the living room window.

What I did see was a strange rainbow kaleidoscope of colors outlined with black dancing around the house.

How did that story go? On the night before Christmas, all through the house not a creature was stirring?

"Ho, ho, ho?" I whispered. I reached under the couch to grab the flashlight—how it got there, I couldn't say, only that I did remember seeing it there the other day—and crept through the kitchen. And as I turned the old doorknob trying not to make much noise did I realize that the flashlight I had in my hand was useless since the dancing lights were making my small rectangle of a backyard look like a disco club, without the upbeat, cheerfully lame vibe. But maybe I could use it as a weapon?

The air was wet but crisp. And eerily silent.

The kind of silence that went under your skin and made you shiver.

For one, the kids in this neighborhood, while friendly, were a rowdy group and usually made noise all through the night. Though I'd deny it vehemently when asked, I liked the noise; it was comforting. I felt much too alone without it.

Second, the spaceship made absolutely no sound.

The spaceship, your typical aerodynamic flying saucer with no windows, was perched on the roof, and its lights shone just around my house. Only my house.

I just stood there with my mouth open hoping that someone—Mr. Yamada, where were you when I needed you to be nosy?—would come running out and stare at this thing with me, but no one else came.

I started to hyperventilate. The sweat from my hands made the flashlight slip from my frozen fingers.

Breathe in. Out. Slowly. Okay, I'm calm. No, I'm calmer.

I'd seen enough of these movies to know what came next: the door in the underside of the spaceship would open; a ramp would appear from somewhere; and I would see a silhouette of an alien who would then do a Jedi-force move and make me come into the ship. And then I'd be somewhere else. The end.

The door of the spaceship opened upward, like a garage door except soundless and happening in less than a split second—instantaneous, as in the moment it started to open, it was already open.

Step one to the end: check.

Skip step two and move on to step three: a figure emerged at the entrance. It was a very small figure with rounded features. No sharp angles, no terrifying horn-shapes or claws. Really, it looked like a Smurf, except in its coloring: instead of the candy bright Smurf blue, it was a deeper, more tranquil blue. And it was as cute as a figure could be when you only knew its size, general shape and color.

I relaxed just a bit. After all, how terrifying could a Smurf be? Of course, this could have been the purpose of its appearance: to distract its prey with its adorableness and whip out an out-of-this-world weapon to take you onto its ship and do horrifying things.

Fortunately, this was not the case.

Little Blue flew from the top of the ramp and stopped abruptly above the left corner of the yard, made some cute gibberish noises, and unearthed a feather from the soil with its small legs.

It was the size of a typical pigeon feather, but that would be where the similarities ended. This feather looked golden. Then, it looked like a ruby, but it wasn't because in the next moment, it sparkled like a sapphire. Its color changed from one moment to the next, and after a while, all I could make out with my eyes was that it glowed.

Little Blue made cute gibberish noises again, more like a bird's trill this time. And it sounded like it was laughing.

It then zoomed to where I was, hovering at eye-level. It blinked its round, watery brown eyes and leaned in closer. Before I could decide what to do, it pecked my cheek. It didn't have lips, so it just pressed its closed mouth to my cheek, like a kiss.

It made its cute noise again, which I took to mean that it liked me.

"Trill-a-la-ping-jingle?"

"Uh," was my brilliant response, the first human word this alien might have heard.

In one swift movement, it smacked me in my right ear and returned to its position in front of me.

Is this better? I heard the words clearly as if they were spoken directly into my mind.

"Uh huh."

Do you know where this came from? Little Blue asked, holding up the feather in its round fingerless hand.

"The feather?"

It nodded, which made a sound like the jingle of bells.

"It's from a bird."

Little Blue bent its legs and sat hovering in the air, right by my face.

"I was maybe five, six years old. I didn't know anyone here. I didn't even know how to say 'Hello' in English. Then one day, I found a chick on the ground by the front door. It had fallen from a nest somewhere. It looked so sick, but my grandfather helped me nurse it back to health. After a while, it even grew and became my friend."

Little Blue didn't move in the slightest, so I took it as a sign to continue with my story.

"Maybe I imagined it, but at the time, I really believed she was always waiting for me when I came home from school. Whenever I was upset or scared, I'd hear her chirps and her wings flapping and I'd calm down. She stayed around the yard for a while longer, but then I started the second grade and finally made some friends. I can't remember when she went away. Or maybe I stopped looking for her then. I don't remember."

Little Blue was now more pink than the makeshift name I gave it. And it seemed to bounce in its invisible seat in the air.

"Anyway, the feather was from that bird. It's the only feather that she lost, and I buried in the yard. I told her that maybe the feather would grow into a tree, and one day, her family could find her. And I used to water it every day and make a wish." I shook my head. "I was a weird child."

Little Blue flew around me and made jingle noises.

"Okay. I told you my story. Your turn."

It stretched out its blue arm and looked at the feather.

It was my mom's, it said.

"Your mom?"

When she was little, she wanted to explore our world and then other worlds. But no one would let her. So, one day, she just left. She came back home when she was older. She was happy, always smiling. And then she met my dad, who was the new leader, and then they had me.

I grew up with the story of how a little human girl saved my mom, and how the girl made a special wish with her feather.

It's my turn now to go out into the other worlds and do something extraordinary. My adventure has always been to find the feather, find the girl, and do something nice for her.

It bounced again until it tilted its head to the side.

"Uh?"

My adventure to find the feather, find the girl, and do something nice for her.

"Oh. You mean, me?"

Yes, it said patiently.

Little Blue then pecked my cheek again and flew into the spaceship.

Before I could finish my next breath, the spaceship hovered above the roof and soared into the skies, all without making a sound.

I looked back over my shoulder at Little Blue.

"Uh... Where are we going?"

To make your wish come true.