It started on a Tuesday. At 3pm every child in my class took out a piece of paper and a pencil and started drawing. At first I thought it was a practical joke. I soon realised it wasn't. It was as if the kids were possessed. They didn't respond to anything I did.

I left the classroom and walked down the corridor. All of the kids in the other classrooms were doing the same thing. My colleges looked at me in confusion. After a while I returned to my classroom to find that the children were still scribbling away. I walked around the room. That's when I realised that they were all drawing the same thing. Even the kids that weren't artistically gifted were drawing with expertise. I looked at the pictures and they were all showing some kind of creature. Almost alien, it had a bulbous head and wide eyes.

As soon as a child had finished they picked up another piece of paper and started again. The only time the children moved was to gather more paper or a new pencil. I picked up one of the finished drawings and went to the classroom next door, then the next, and the next. Every child in the school was drawing the same thing. By the time I got to the head teacher he was already on the phone to the police. It wasn't just our school.

We turned on the radio and listened. Every school in the area was calling in with the same  information. Before long the parents started arriving, demanding to see their children. Some stood and watched, fascinated and terrified in equal measure. Some shouted at their children to stop. Some even carried their children home, still clutching paper and pencil, drawing. Whatever we did it didn't stop them.

By 9pm we had all accepted that we couldn't stop it. I had been collecting the paper and pencils that were all used up, and not wanting to be an enabler but not knowing what else to do, I had started sharpening pencils. I had been wondering what could be causing this and hoping that tomorrow when a team of so called 'specialists' arrived, they might have some answers.

I looked down and realised that I had been drawing. It wasn't the same as the drawings that the children had done. I had drawn a field. The school field. I grabbed my picture and ran to the window. My drawing was identical to the field I knew was out there in the darkness.

I saw a light in the distance, getting closer and closer. As I watched something land, my gut told me this was not the arrival of anything positive. A bright light shone from the aircraft. I saw the silhouette of the figure the children had drawn become visible. I felt a small hand take hold of mine.

"Miss. What's happening?"

"Why is it dark Miss?"

"Where's my mum?"

The children had stopped drawing.