They came in great flying ships that blotted out the sky. Like inverted pyramids with radio masts. The ships I mean, not the Overlords. We knew them as Overlords, because it was so written on the sides of the vessels.
With lutes and bagpipes we met them, hoping music might communicate. And they spared us.
But they erected a scaffold on the summer meadow, and we were afraid. They capered there with stringed devices that blasted sound.
The next day, they were gone. The meadow is covered in strange litter. Perhaps some of it has power.