Short stories & poems

Family went out on the outing on the beach like most days with the dogs and the children Today, however the shoreline that came across something weird A body was washed up The most the most weird thing was, it wasn’t just one body but lots A plane crashed, no survivors When they tried to ring the cell phone, it was like it was dead As they looked at the sky streaks and meteor fell to the ground What it happened nobody knew it was like it was like the end of the world

Solitude has never been so bad. I remember that it was at night when the moon stopped shining, when all you could see was this small white object, just bit illuminated like it normally would. Then the outside lights turned off, almost instantly. Then the world was plunged into darkness. It was a power outage I originally thought, probably from a storm or the unexpectedly high winds that night. I went to go outside, to see what had happened. The sky was bright as it could ever be, and you could finally see the Milky Way in its fullest. The cosmic rays twisted and distorted throughout the night, but there were no stars in the celestial body. Like it had been wiped away. I asked everyone if they knew what had happened but they were all half awake and clueless, some still drunk from the earlier night. It was new years, and it was 12:00 when it all happened. 2045 was finally here. “What happened?” Some whispered still in pajamas. “The gods have come to destroy us!” Someone screeched. Some people started to laugh and bicker among the almost sarcastic comment, but some were shocked. The world was starting to feel cold and bitter. The still humid air had become frigid and cold. The water in the lakes were quickly freezing, and the moon was enveloped in darkness. “What is happening?!” Demanded someone. “If I want to sleep tonight, I better have an answer.” I went to bed, but even then the lights inside were all burnt out. I went into the breaker room and flicked on all the lights, and a blinking red light came on from the breaker. “Low battery life. Low sunlight,” the robotic voice repeated. Low sunlight? I scrambled back upstairs in the darkness and tried to look in my phone. I barely had any service, and my battery was draining unusually fast. A news broadcast popped up, in low resolution and a very grainy video, the news reporter repeated the same thing. “The sun has been swallowed by a black hole, and so has every other star. We’re next!” They screamed before it all glitched out of existence. I stared back into the sky, shivering and holding myself to stay warm. Their was no warmth anymore, it had been almost 15 minutes at that poking, and everyone in the town was still huddled together bickering and crying. I stared into the dark sky; which had no more milky way gapaxy anymore. It was all gone. Everything. I was staring at a black, blank hole, and in it, in small microscopic circles, was the entire universe. We were already inside it…

In the heart of the bustling port city of Marisol, where merchant ships laden with silks, spices, and secrets arrived daily, worked a trader named Calen Pryce. He was known not for his wealth—though his coffers were undeniably full—but for his uncanny ability to procure what others could not. Need an ancient relic? Calen would find it. Missing a loved one? Calen had a knack for tracking people down. The price, however, was never predictable, and rarely did it come cheap.

Calen’s shop was unassuming, tucked in an alley where shadows stretched long even at noon. Inside, trinkets from every corner of the world adorned the shelves: gilded daggers, faded maps, and jars of rare herbs. Beneath the shop, in a cellar only Calen and a select few knew about, lay the real treasures—artifacts of power, objects with stories so dark they were whispered only in hushed tones.

One such object was the Coin of Veritus, said to compel absolute truth when held. Calen never used it himself—truth, in his line of work, was a dangerous thing. But it brought him customers willing to pay exorbitant sums or offer favors steeped in desperation.

Why should I bother? he thought, eyes forward as the storm approached. The storm was a beautiful tragedy. Multiple twisters touched down on the desolate land. The sun was setting on the horizon, causing the dirt and sand to fill the twisters with a reddish coloring that almost looked like fire. 
He stood atop a small cliffside, around 100 feet drop if he fell. It wouldn’t have caused much damage if he jumped. Maybe if I jump when the storm arrives and headfirst, it might be able to end me in one quick strike. The ground around him was sun-dried and cracked. His stomach made a noise, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in a long time. 
Yes, this will be a good way to go. Maybe this will please them. The sun fell slowly beyond the horizon, darkness slowly swallowing the land. For a moment, though, it reflected something far off. A golden flash blinded him in the dim light for just a moment, and for an even shorter moment, the outline of a large building, unaffected by the twisters and the great winds of this dying land. How did I not see it before the storm? 
Curiosity overcame him, and he decided to investigate. First, he had to find shelter from the storm. Many were built in the last days of this world. Though he wasn’t here when it ended, his arrival is something new to this seemingly dead world. He had seen these storms and knew roughly how long it should take. It didn’t take long to find a shelter. 
The shelter felt like entering a crypt and smelled more like a morgue. The rancid smell of death filled his nostrils. He started breathing through his mouth. Whoever was here must have starved to death. It was dark, the darkness that made your eyes play tricks on you. He tapped his exposed wrist in a particular pattern, and the top of his forearm shone brightly. 
Squinting at the bright light, he made a fist, knuckles facing him, and pointed his brightened forearm away from him. Then, he began descending into the crypt-like shelter. He stepped slowly down the wooden stairs; it seemed to go down a long way. 
He was in no rush to get down there. He had plenty of time before the storm would let up. Based on the scent, he was confident he knew what he would find. The shelter had a dirt floor and four concrete walls. It seems a family lived there until they ran out of food.
Two of the corpses were adults; the other was that of a child. He shone his light around the small room. It had plumbing, with a single toilet and sink, both out in the open. He walked over and, feeling curious, tried to flush the toilet using the lever on the side. The bowl was dry, and no water flowed in at his jiggling of the lever. 
He had trouble estimating how long they had been dead; their bodies had decayed. There were no maggots or flies in the crypt that he could see. He didn’t bother searching for food or anything of use; he learned months ago that nothing remained. 
They had a bookshelf; many of its books had decayed, indicating they may have been here far longer than he realized. Two books had remained firm. The first he grabbed was the large book. The pages were thin and felt fragile upon touch, and he couldn’t read the language it was written in. Perhaps if I were still on the net, but well, that line of thought doesn’t help.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed something strange. One of the bodies hadn’t decayed at all. It was a man who appeared to be in his late 40s. His beard was longer than any he had seen before. It was dark in color with grey speckled throughout. He nudged the body, trying to awaken the man. His hand dropped a small chain necklace with a lowercase t. Curious, He grabbed it and wrapped the chain around his hand, eyeing the t. His pockets did not function, so he couldn’t store them there. He checked for a pulse, and the body was cold. He frowned and opened the other book. The other book, he could understand, having stored the local language in his memory. Upon reading the first page, he decided it was a personal journal. As he started putting it back on the shelf, he froze momentarily, a thought popping into his head. They die a second time if you don’t remember who they are, and this death is final. Let them live one last time. His shoulders slumped, his head drooped, and he audibly exhaled. Then, chastising himself, he opened the journal and began reading. He quickly skimmed through the pages from front to back, flipping them with his fingers and stopping on the final entry. He noticed it was dated on the top corner, opposite the binding on each page. It was Earth Standard, but they didn’t put a year in, so it is uncertain when it was written. This marks the first day. My family and I were unable to escape to the parish. However, this hole I was led to should provide safety. Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirt: now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen. April 16th Many early pages spoke of their struggles living there and their inability to leave. The person writing this seemed to believe that the building above collapsed into itself and closed off the entrance. The man paused his readings and looked up the stairs, realizing for the first time that this wasn’t simply a storm shelter, and this place had been from before the beginning of the end. It is impressive that any of this is still around. He took a deep breath and continued reading the journal, noting that all the pages had the same last line: Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen. It has been several weeks, and I have eaten scarcely and allowed my wife and daughter to eat what little there is. Is this the end of times? Or is it simply the end of this time and world? Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirt: now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen July 3rd We have run out of food. We will be joining Him soon. My beloved wife has already joined Him. My sweet daughter is looking ill. I feel as strong as ever. Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirt: now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen July 28th

God has granted me a miracle, and through His Grace, I could perform the miracle of making food. Glory to him! My body is yours, oh God, and my soul belongs to you. I have not needed to eat more than one time a week to feel fully fed! Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirt: now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen August 1st

This will be my final entry. My sweet child has passed from this world. She is now resting in His embrace and no longer in pain. My prayers have been answered, and I shall soon join them. My life has been in His service, and I will die in His service. I tried to leave again, but the doors to leave will not budge. I am sad not to see the light of God’s creation one last time in this body. I am, however, excited to be embraced by the One who died for me, the unworthy sinner. Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirt: now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen September 1st That was the last page; there were no names. They likely died of starvation. Why is the body not decayed like the rest? What does he mean he created food? He frowned and shook his head. At least now I can let the storm take me after seeing that strange building and have no guilt about this man and his family. They gave themselves a final death by not remembering who they were. He tapped on the side of his head, took a deep breath, and momentarily closed his eyes. He opened his eyes, shocked by how much time had passed. Then, he tapped it again. On his way out, he noticed more: intricate carvings on the wooden stairs and the fact that they were still sturdy. If his guess were correct, these stairs would have been hundreds of years old.
Upon leaving the shelter, he climbed back where he initially saw the building. He saw it off in the distance; it was dark like all at night but seemed to reflect the stars in a way he’d never seen another building do before. He began his journey, which he estimated would take him a few days to walk. The ground was dry and cracked. He wasn’t sure water existed on the planet anymore. He was infused with a trial run of CRA-9, so food and water weren’t necessities for him any longer. He still felt hungry and thirsty, but only for a time. The journey was longer than he had anticipated, and his mind wandered. He began to consider how he had ended up on this planet in the first place. The sun rose in the west and set in the east. Backward from what Earth was accustomed to, but he had seen all kinds. Ironically, never Earth, though. It's odd how we always compare other places to Earth; most of us have never been there. Escaping reavers ended him here. He wasn’t sure if the swift but painful death from the reavers would have been preferred to this he walked now. Of course, he wasn’t sure he could be killed any longer. The CRA-9 was supposed to heal all wounds rapidly without medical attention. He was in a cycle of hunger pains again with dehydration but could easily ignore it. His body was nearly as augmented as organic, so he didn’t need much food since taking this new serum. When he arrived at the building, it was grand and majestic. He wanted to enjoy it. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Buildings weren’t built like this anymore; they were bare when constructed, and with AR, you could make them what you wanted. He wasn’t on the net, so he stared dumbly, knowing this to be an actual building. It stood tall and proud, a barrier to the winds, a guardian of the land, a relic of a forgotten age and possibly forgotten people. He circled the building, taking it in, and a quick scan showed it to be around 419 feet tall, 220 feet wide, and 417 feet long. It appeared as if multiple buildings were attached to it, making it one massively beautiful structure. Each section had its domed roof, a total of 8 or maybe 9. It was hard to tell, as he couldn’t get an angle that would allow him to see enough of the top. Each domed peak of each roof seemed to be affixed with what appeared to be a lowercase t. He looked down at the necklace he still had wrapped around his hand, and it looked like a miniature version of those t’s at the tops. There were arches with pillars on all sides; each entrance had seven pillars with arched doorways. The back area was not an entrance but a full balcony with pillars and arches. It was approaching nightfall when he finished this self-appointed task of checking every building detail. It was a white marble on the outside, though the pillars were more gray than white, and each domed portion of the roof was golden but not likely composed of gold. He decided to wait until morning to view the rest. You can only experience art for the first time once; any time after that, while still beautiful, it isn’t experienced the same. He had no idea what to expect when he entered, but he had hope for the first time since he crashed into this apocalyptic death planet. No, before then, even before the company was the last time you had hope or excitement for anything. You can’t lie to yourself. He tried not to dwell on the time before. It didn’t matter anyway. The time to come is the only thing left. He started pacing, and in his self-recrimination, he didn’t even notice the winds beginning to pick up and a storm forming. A gust of wind suddenly and forcefully knocked him down. He looked up, finally noticing the storm upon him. His eyes widened, and as he stood up again, he was blown down. He continued in this manner, making no progress toward the door. When a damning thought occurred to him, is this what I deserve? A fleeting moment of purpose came back to me for the first time in several centuries, just to be taken. He lay on the ground, accepting the pummeling the wind gave him. Then, he stood up with a sudden and unexpected force of will. He began ambling towards the front doors of the building. The wind hitting him almost seemed to be screaming at him, trying to knock him down. Cuts began to open, one hand up to protect his eyes as best he could, the one bearing the necklace. The other rested across his chest to keep his loose-fitting clothes from beating him more than the wind was. The building wasn’t far, but somehow, this walk seemed hours, losing sight of it in the fight against the wind, which seemed bent upon his destruction, against his entry to this building. “YOU CAN HAVE ME WHEN I SEE WHAT IS INSIDE!” He bellowed in rage as if the wind could hear his defiant shouts, as if the wind cared enough to give him this. Then, everything went still. He stopped, stunned that it worked, and took a few deep breaths, allowing the wounds on his arms and face to heal. Then, he looked up, hoping to see the clear night sky, realizing with sudden horror that he was in the center of a fully formed twister. He ran, putting everything he could into running before the winds began in full again. He wasn’t fast enough. They immediately started hitting him. He was so close that the pillars were mere yards away. He pressed on. With each step, the wind hit him harder and harder, knocking him left, right, and left again. He continued onward. He was nearly there, within arm's reach of a pillar, when he lost his footing. He realized with shock that it wasn’t just his footing he lost; he lost the ground. The twister had picked up enough force to grab him from the ground. He cried out, spinning every way, not hitting anything but being hit by the wind. The wind howled triumphantly at his screams of dismay. "So, I die, hopeless in the end, unfulfilled." He closed his eyes and accepted his fate; the wind hesitated momentarily. He dropped several feet toward the ground, and once more, up and down, he noticed something as he spun through the air: one of the t-shaped objects at the top of the buildings. He reached out and grabbed it, and while it looked small, it was incredibly sturdy. He clung to it, burying his arm in the crux and having faith it would see him through this treacherous storm. The storm seemed to batter him down for a time, and he continued to hold to this t. Cuts opened on his body and immediately stung, becoming full of dirt and sand in the wind. Yet he held, and the winds eventually died. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the storm had passed or had disappeared entirely. His final wounds sealed, and he noticed that he was at the t on top of the highest of the domed roofs. The sun was up now. It was a sight to be up this high, but nothing was around. He couldn’t even make out the hole he had hid in days before. Then he looked down. I think I could survive this fall, but I don’t want to find out. A gentle wind seemed to blow, one that he thought was encouraging the idea. So, with no other prodding, he began his descent. He tried to control his fall, sliding down the side of the dome roof. He sped up as he slid, clawing the sides to slow the descent. He stopped abruptly, both feet hitting the ledge surrounding this dome. Unfortunately, his knees buckled, and he fell head-first off the building. He screamed as he fell, watching the ground approaching at a frightening speed. Is this how it ends? Survive the storm to die plummeting headfirst from over 400 feet up. He got hit by two strong gusts of wind, spinning his body, so he landed feet first. He broke every bone from his feet to his hips. It took an agonizingly long time to heal from it. He was worried the wild winds would attack him again. Foolish thought wind doesn’t have a mind of its own. He even began to laugh out loud about the idea, and more importantly, he survived the fall of 419 feet. He laughed again; fall felt like a 421-foot building. Wiping tears at his bad joke, he finally stood up. He had stiffness in his right hip and figured it would go away. He finally walked to the arches and touched one of the connecting pillars. He continued in and instantly noticed it was a quiet place. This wasn’t an ominous quiet; it was a peaceful quiet that didn’t want to be disturbed but was willing to make an exception. He felt calm radiate within him, a peace he had never felt in his life, then pulled the door open and limped in. None of the interior lighting worked, but light seemed to shine in this place anyway. Seeing was not tricky, and he did not need to squint to make out the majesty of this structure. It was a hallway on both sides and pillars connected by archways on each level it went up. The corridor led deeper into the building, and the roof had a dome shape, as he had seen from outside. It led to a larger area; the roof here was domed and ornamented by what appeared to be a mosaic. The archway leading into it, the mosaic depicted twelve people split evenly. The heads were pointed toward the center of the archway. Each of them appeared to be a person but also not. Nothing about them looked different from any person he had seen. They were done in a way that didn’t look like a normal person, leaving him unsettled, an almost otherworldly presence. He nearly laughed at the notion since he wasn’t from this planet but instead allowed a smirk on his face. Continuing not to disturb the peace in this place. Each figure had a blue background, and some words he didn’t understand were written beside them. All of them seemed to have a similar pose. A few differences included some holding onto the t, almost like he had. On either side of the twelve people was an ornately and beautifully made pattern, perhaps flowers, but they mirrored each other across the archway. The domed roof was a truly majestic piece of art. This was a half dome, and central to it was a person in a red robe with a shawl, perhaps a woman, over the top of their head. Cradling an infant, the infant lay on some slab, perhaps of stone, with what seemed to be an entrance to a cave behind. What appeared to be a horse and a cow behind them, overlooking the infant. A point from the top of the half dome seemed to point toward the child, a symbol akin to a star drawn in a circle between the child and the top. The infant had a circle behind its head, displaying something he once again couldn’t identify. It was letters, but he was uncertain what they meant. Above the cave entrance and to the left were what appeared to be men with wings sprouting from their backs, staring down upon the child as if in gratitude for the child's birth. Beside them were three men on horses, perhaps, and it seemed one was proffering a gift to the child. Below them were another three men. The middle seemed to be wearing a fur cloak, and to his left was a man with a walking stick. Both seemed to be trying to counsel the third man, who appeared thoughtful upon a rock. Sheep and a single horse were grazing. Above the cave entrance and to the right, another winged man was gesturing in a manner that appeared to be to get others to bear witness to this infant. A man and woman, perhaps married, looked upon the child in wonder, the man wearing a fur cloak and the woman a brown dress. A man, perhaps a minstrel, played what appeared to be a flute nearby, maybe a boy, and looked at the infant. Below them, a woman poured water into a container. Off to the right, it appeared the infant was being prepared for his first bath. A woman was holding him, perhaps his mother again. He knew, through no apparent signs told him, that this infant was a boy. He could be wrong, but somehow, he knew it was a boy. He stood in wonderment, staring in disbelief at the beauty before him. He began to weep, unsure if the tears were tears of joy or sorrow. He let them streak down his face and did not bother wiping them. He didn’t know how much time had passed before him, but he rose when he finished, and his last tear had dried upon his cheek. With a limp, he continued to view the majestic creation he had stumbled upon. However, nothing struck him nearly as magnificently as that first depiction. It was a strange occurrence, but somehow, he always knew, with no clear indication, who the infant was and his mother. From the depiction, he could tell this child was the focal point; he grew, he lived his life for a time, and then he was killed. He was familiar with the style of killing, known as crucifixion, and he had stumbled upon a few empires that used the method to deal with the most heinous of crimes. He wondered what the crime this man committed was. Though he died, it seemed death wasn’t enough to stop him. He continued to work after dying. He then ascended, perhaps. The iconography, somehow, he knew that was the proper term for it, depicted a hero who died for the world. He was born to and consigned to death, like all people, but his task was greater even than that. It was, unfortunately, not an adequate way to tell the story. He needed and wanted the details. He needed to understand further. He decided, then and there, to pursue this group and learn the story the

He chose a blanket. He preferred a soft duvet, but a warm fleece throw is much more practical given the situation. His friends had told him many ideas on how to use this covering to his advantage in the Games— the obvious ones being for comfort when sleeping (but quick naps only, of course), and for protection from the harsh elements. He was taught how to use a blanket, in dire situations, and when folded in a certain way, to descend safely into caves. His teacher advised him that he should use the blanket to carry his belongings in, from campsite to campsite.

But at the front of his mind, he had always planned that the blanket was to be used in the time between his death and when the drones came to remove his body from the arena. However short or long that period of time may be, he wanted to make sure his body could be kept somewhat safe. He and his district partner had an agreement they would do this for each other.

He found it to be quite the gift that he got to choose what he would be wrapped in when they would return him back to his family in District 8, where textiles were produced.

Another knight's body hits the floor, one of their legs removed via plasma fire. The bio-mechanical march won't stop for another casualty, but the Ferrymyn will. The stampede of knights pushes forward, leaving an opening for the Ferrymyn to preform their rituals. The Ferrymyn approach the fallen; minds sharing burdens of pain. The breathing of the wounded knight slows; both from her withering heart, but also the warm touch on her cheeks. In her delirious state she almost missed that her helmet had been removed. A gentle touch wiped tears from her eyes, granting her clarity. A Ferrymyn's hand was caressing her cheek. They were whispering something in a language the knight could only guess. She hoped it was a prayer. Talk of Ferrymyn was forbidden, as if that every stopped anything in the history of humankind. The knight knew what it meant for a Ferrymyn to bless you. This would be the day her days ended. Until then she would enjoy the first time that she felt the breeze play with her short hair. The cacophony of battle the only sounds gracing her ears without filter. The smell of death lingering with an ocean breeze, a mixing of salt and iron on the tongue. Though the most striking sensation was that of another humans face. No armour, no augmentations. Just a person with a smile. They would carry her beyond. And the knight hoped someday she would do the same. Become a Ferrymyn for another, and feel touch once again.

"Thank you"

This was the fifth time this month that Graves stopped by Outpost 616 on his patrol for The Outfit. The contract called for weekly check-ins to discourage scavengers from taking decommissioned government technology.

Each trip was uneventful in that he came to an inert outpost with all the power systems shutdown and no active sensor returns.

Today, he knew something was not right when he kept getting a faint return on his active scanners showing activity in the far side docking port. No one was supposed to be here but he knew that sometimes there were situations that called for emergency measures such as stopping at a decommissioned station in the middle of nowhere.

He activated the typical hailing communications in case this was what he hoped it would be: someone who needed and wanted help. The Outfit always prepared their patrollers for unusual situations - that’s why the kept getting these contracts.

The moment he sent the signal,the faint return reading disappeared entirely. Not good. Protocol called on him to investigate within reason otherwise he could face disciplinary action for abdication of duties and the black box recorder already had everything on record.

Graves docked and made his way to his usual spot. It was all as he normally found it except for a small trickle of a black substance that ran in a straight line to his quarters in the outpost. He had places to stay on every patrol stop but this one was special - because it was the only one with a self-sustaining biodome that would-be colonist could use to gather resources that may have gone scarce on the trip out.

Graves liked to camp-out in this biodome to have a change of pace to the all around artificial life of space flight. It was nice to be able to breath air that had been made by real plants and living things.

As he followed the trail of black down the halls, it led straight to his haven. He went into the biodome carefully and found that cabin he had built over the past year on each trip. Outside in his vast. yard he saw a fire burning. Not just something but his cabin. Burning in the biodome of all things. As he quickened his pace to see what had started the fire, he saw that something was standing next to it staring at him. Or he thought it was staring at him….but all he could make out was a figure with a pair of goggles on and bleeding wound with black liquid oozing out of it.

At that moment, Graves turned around only to see that he was surrounded by more figures just like the one standing next to the fire that consumed his sanctuary.

When he started to yell, he felt something hit him in the chest and he looked down to see black liquid oozing out.

I cough as dust flies through the air and into my throat. Everything was smoke-infested and dirty nowadays. After our new, foolish leader decided the best way to govern our world was banning us from doing basically anything. I stalk down the street—as for cars were banned—as I clench my fists tightly to my sides, my destroyed winter boots clunking against the cracked pavement. There were many people everyday that were taken by the government for simply existing. The dark, ominous trucks cruising down the streets, the tinted windows showing absolutely nothing on the insides of these trucks. I knew the people behind them were from the government, scanning for anyone who simply breathed wrong. There were no longer innocent cars on the streets. I keep my head down, my face covered with a shirt. Keeping my identity on the down-low was a common thing to do in these days. Only my boring, brown eyes showed. Thank goodness brown eyes were common, or else my identity would be easy to find. It was too easy to do something wrong. I hear the smooth sound of tires on the road and I continue walking towards my desolate house. Multiple symbols and posters were slapped on the siding of my run-down home. The government had done this to almost every house, almost to remind us of our upmost doom. Leaving wasn’t allowed either. The walls surrounding this hell were tall and guarded by the most trained military I had ever heard of. “You there. Stop walking!” A sharp voices calls out from the dark truck driving down the road. I stop dead in my tracks, clenching my fists so prevent them from shaking. I pivot to face them, thankful for my common eye color and covered face. “Yes?” I say in the most polite voice I could speak. “Why, you’re rather young,” the person notices. Shit, shit, shit. They knew I was young. If I let them examine the very few features they could see of my much longer, they would take me away. I say nothing.

                                           ***

Years later, that awful leader’s term ends. The weight of the announcement that our rights were back releases itself off of my shoulders. But I would never be the same. I still feared walking down the street, I still tried to cover my face up with a shirt before stopping myself. I still cringed every time I saw any symbol remotely close to the one that foolish man coined. Everything had changed, but I felt optimistic. I knew that our new leader was also affected deeply by the last leader, and would do everything in their power to make sure someone who was that evil never stepped foot on that podium in the middle of our town. I was no longer trapped under his leadership. So I held my head high as I stuffed the shirt I usually used to cover my face back in my dresser, and stepped into the outside, the cold stinging my face. I look at the sunrise and see something amazing.. Hope was on the horizon.

Science has advanced to the point of finding an unlimited source of energy from a new type of planet we have found in recent discoveries. Humanity is about to extract its first “Surge Core” from the middle of a planet. This is a small sphere filled with energy which fills that planet with power to help feed it’s wildlife and plants, all of which are nourished by electricity.

Stephen grabs his high powered laser slicer and faces the sphere in the depths of this rocky planet. This procedure has never been done before, and the timing has to be perfect. The crew, who were in a laboratory on the ground of this planet, were giving Stephen comms based on the surges of energy received from this core. It is essential that it is cut within a small window of the surge of energy slowing down, however Stephen cannot be around the core underground for too long as the electromagnetic forces can interfere with his brain signals, as well as the technology he needs to used to get back above the ground. In fact, once he is face to face with the sphere he has two minutes to cut it out of the core of this planet before the systems start shutting down. This surge could happen once, maybe twice, so it’s crucial he gets it right.

“Captain, I’m face to face with the core, we have one minute and fifty seconds,” states Stephen down the intercom within his astronaut helmet. Captain Mitchell is in charge of this mission, and is closely monitoring the activity of this core so he can get the timing exact on when to cut it. “Okay, I’ll tell you when. This is big, it is crucial we get this done right now, for the good of humanity,” The Captain replies. Stephen powers up his laser slicer, capable of gliding through this rock like butter within seconds. “I am ready when you are Sir!” Exclaims Stephen. The problem is, the Captain only hears half of this before the communications went down, Stephen’s voice was cut off, and it seems all contact has been severed. “Stephen, do you copy? Reply to me Stephen, give me a signal if you hear me,” Captain Mitchell panics.

A wave of dread flushes over the crew. Without this core, humanity on Earth may become extinct, with resources at an all time low. However, if Stephen panics and cuts this core out at the wrong time, the destabilisation that could occur is incalculable. The co-pilot, Janice, frantically thinks of a solution, however nothing comes to mind. It was thought that the technology could survive the electromagnetic force of this core, but the science was wrong. “We need to tell him not to cut it, if he does this wrong, we are done!” Says Janice. “Fuck, this is bad.” Stephen is waiting for a reply from the Captain, not realising what has gone wrong. Laser in hand, face to face with the solution to humanities problems. “Janice, you need to calm down! We are limited on time, worrying will mess this up!” The Captain exclaims with an anger in his voice.

Stephen checks the clock. Thirty seconds left, not a word from the Captain, a bead of sweat drips down his face, the helmet covering him making it impossible to wipe it away. “Captain, he has thirty seconds, what the hell do we do?!” Janice now horrified, not thinking straight. The Captain turns around, shocked at the unprofessionalism“Cut it out! Stephen is trained, he knows what to do in this scenario, I trust-“

A slight misunderstanding can change the course of human history. As if the planet was playing around with this crew like they were prey, the communications came back online for a split second as the Captain shouts “Cut it out,” and Stephen, being in the unknown, just follows orders. The core is at the peak of its surge, and as the laser cuts through the vein holding it in place, everything disappears. The planet is disintegrated within a nanosecond, the space around the planet becoming incredibly dense, the energy released creating a black hole big enough to swallow this little solar system.

For Stephen and his crew, death was too quick to notice. For humanity, extinction will last months and years, will the lack of resources slowly wiping us out.

Day1

It’s like they have done this many times before. My “room” or cell is like a presidential suite in a fancy hotel. I woke up in a King size bed more comfortable than my bed at home. I’ve been wandering around the room looking for a way out, but nothing. They haven’t said anything to me, I do feel like I’m being watched though. There’s an intercom on the wall that I’m trying to communicate with, but no response. The fridge is stocked with every food you could imagine, so naturally I started cooking. Got my three meals, watched a couple football games and took a few naps. Today seemed way too good to be true, things were going to good it can’t stay like this.

Day2

I was abruptly woken up, no knowledge of what time it was, just a bright light shoved in my face. I was on a cold table and I couldn’t fully open my eyes because of the lights. It must be “them”, I started screaming at them asking “what do you want?!” I couldn’t make out any features. Some gas filled the room and I passed out. I woke up back in the presidental suite on the couch in front of the TV. Someone was there when I got back, not an alien, another person. Laying in the bed just as I did when I first arrived, a woman.

Day3

We spent all night (or what we think is night) thinking of how we got here and what these aliens want with us. We have narrowed it down that they may to just observe us interacting. Because we don’t live in the same area back on earth. I’m from NC and she’s from a small town in Utah. We both have regular jobs, nothing life changing. In the back of my mind though I feel like they just wanted to give me a friend. Because even though I shouldn’t trust these things, I get a feeling that they are harmless. I hope I’m right about that.