Short stories & poems

Another day, another hunt.

Most families in our post-apocalyptic bliss spend their evenings snuggled together in the comfort of their own bunker. Telling stories of what once was, cracking jokes in attempt to lighten the devastating mood, or maybe even being so lucky as to read a book that they came across during evacuation.

But not my little band of psychopaths. We take the Zs head on.

“Last one to a dozen cooks dinner!” Yells Jess, my brother’s wife. She brandishes her sparkling machete, testing the edge for lethal sharpness. Despite being seven months pregnant, this woman is deadly.

“Deal.” My dad sniggers. A cleaver is his weapon of choice. Even at 72 the man is as lithe as a lion. It was probably all the multi-vitamins and fish oil. Or so he claims.

My mom, Carol, comes up behind him and kisses my dad on the cheek. “Well that’s not fair. Some of us go for quality over quantity.”

My mom would be right. Unlike the rest of us, the Zs she shoots down always stay down. There’s nothing more unsettling that one of those Walkers getting back up again once you thought you took its head off. I had one that was literally hanging on by a single tendon. Swinging from side to side like a pendulum. The heads gotta be clean off, otherwise the job ain’t done.

My younger sister, Clara, comes up behind me, shotgun at the ready. “Sun’s getting low.”

We all nod. Showtime.

High above the city, where the winds are sharp and free, A realm of restless motion whispers ancient mystery. Skyscrapers pierce the heavens, reaching for the skies, While stars beyond their shining peaks gaze down with timeless eyes.

The streets below are rivers, flowing red and gold, A million fleeting moments in their currents uncontrolled. Yet up here in the silence, the noise begins to fade, And all the bustling chaos feels distant and dismayed.

The moon becomes a lantern, hung in velvet black, Its silver light a guardian, watching every track. The hum of life below me humbles and inspires, A symphony of dreaming hearts and flickering desires.

I watch the world in miniature, a tapestry of lights, A flicker of humanity in the velvet cloak of night. High above the city, where the earth and sky divide, I find a quiet solace and let my soul reside.

The fire burned closer. Mia clutched Rily’s hand as they ran through the smoke and ash coughing. Her skin stung for the embers that floted around them, the smell of the smoke choaking her and the heat burning her throat. Tears tried to form in her eyes but the dry air caused them to sting. “We can’t get out!” Rily cried, suddenly stopping pulling Mia to a halt amid the flames. She clutched at her sister’s arm choaking and sobbing. “Yes we can!” Mia said trying to pull her sister back into motion. "come on, we have to keep going!” “No! I can’t! We’re dead Mia, it’s too hot it’s killing us.” she colapsed to the ground in a fit of coughing. Mia turned trying to find of a way out, trying to make sense of this situation. Nothing, they wouldn’t survive this. How had this gone wrong so fast. Had it really only been two hours ago that her and her sister had been laughing and joking together. Mia regarded her sister. There was one sure way that they could get out of this. One way that would surly save them, but would change their lives forever. Mia gritted her teeth spinning, desperating trying to find another solution. Her whole life she had lied to her family ever since the day she had been chosen by her master. SInce that day she had sworn she would never tell a living being about her ablitities or about the league of heroes that worked day and night trying to keep the world safe. If she told her sister, if she saved them, they would have to leave. She would have to bring her sister and hide her either recruiting her by finding her a master of her own, or never allowing her any outside contact outside of the league’s hideout. She thought of her life, her friends, her family, her hopes for her career as a normal citizen living a half normal life. She looked down at Rily. Her sister shook on the ground, the smoke suffocating her. She set her jaw. She had no choice. Mia called upon her abilities and she burst alight with power. Her pain and exhasution vanished and strength flooded her body. All the dizziness she hadn’t even realized she was feeling washed away in a wave of clarity. Electric energy shot through her entire body causing her to want to move, jump, exploded into to motion. She gripped Rily tightly and lifted her onto her shoulder. She started running, her sister only half conscious. She extended a hand in front of her, a forcefield of energy appearing in front of her in the shape of a wedge. She slammed it into the wall in front of them and burst through to the other side. Cold night air exploded into exsistance around them. The building shook and, pushed beyond it’s limit, collapsed behind them sending out a shock wave that sent Mia stumbling away. Thankfully, the wall had been an exterior one and Mia took off with Rily still on her shoulder disappearing into the night. She didn’t stop until she found an alley a safe distance away from any prying eyes. She gentally set Rily down kneeling to check on her. Rily opened her eyes up grgoggily then they widened in surprise. “Mia?” She asked seeming uncertain. Mia without a word put both of her hands on her own chest and breathed out. When she pulled them away a ball of blue-green energy spun lazily in her hands. Rily pulled back a bit her eyes fixed on the ball of light. Gentally Mia pushed the ball towards Rily then watched as it entered her chest. A wave of light washed through Rily, the pure engery causing her hair float for a moment as if in a breeze. Her cuts vanished and her color returned. Her breathing became natural again. “What in the world?” Rily whispered. She stared at Mia eyes wide and fully alert. “Mia? Are, are you dead?” Mia chucked allowing her light and power to fade till she looked like her normal self again. “No, I’m not dead.” “Then what?” Rily looked over her arms and legs. “How?” She looked sharply at Mia. “What are you?” Rily smiled sadly. “I’m afaid that answer is long and complecated and at the moment it’s the least of our worries.” “What do you mean?” Rily asked as Mia stood and looked around as if to make sure there was still no one around. “Mia we were in the middle of a burning building about to die and you just,” She gestured in a wild pattern vaguely in Mia’s direction. “whatever you just did and broke through a wall with some kind of insane forcefield.” Mia raised an eyebrown. Well that was definately interesting. She had thought that her sister was practicaly unconsious when that had happened but apparantly she had been more alert than she had thought. “Look, Rily,” Mia said, sagging a bit and folding her arms looking to the side. “there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, that no one excpet a very select few knew about me and the fact that you know is let’s just say not ideal. Not ideal to the point that,” She paused looking to her sister then dropping her eyes, “to the point that we can’t go home.” “What!” Rily scrambled to her feet. “What do you mean we can’t go home?” “I mean,” Mia said stepping closer to her opening her hands toward her. “The group that I am with has one simple rule, ‘No one finds out’. No one, the protocal for this type of situation is, well is that you and I have to go and live with the leauge.” “What leauge?!” Rily was screaming throwing her hands in the air in frustraion and not a little panic. “What does any of this mean?! If this is some kind of sick joke Mia you need to stop right now.” She stared hard at Mia pleading, confused, scared. When the look in Mia’s eyes told her this wasn’t a joke she turned as if to run. Mia grabbed her. “Rily!” “Let go! I’m going home. Mom and Dad will know what to do. Let me go!” “Rily, we can’t go home!” Mia yelled fighting to hold on as Rily struggled to get free prying at her Mia’s hands. Mia flared a little of her power and her grip grew in strength. “We have to leave and tell no one or else…” Rily looked back at her and paused in her attepmts to free herslef and flee. “Or else what?” She asked, dread in her voice. Mia let go of her sister’s arm and set her lips in a hard line. “Or else they will kill us.”

The land of the free and the home of the brave.** **What a bunch of bullcrap. We have no freedom anymore. We have the intelligence to make our own choices, but the ever-knowing eye will dictate every action of our lives. Every action anyone takes is monitored and reviewed by a series of AI machines, deciding whether or not what we did was right or wrong. Instead of people choosing their own lives, FAITH now controls ours. And that is something I hold no faith in.  Just as the twenty-first century started, so did the world's downfall. In 2001 the Patriot Act was enacted, laying the foundation for FAITH. Crime started to rise around 2050, and by 2200, crime had risen by almost eighty percent. In 2217 the government had enough of it, and a group called FAITH stepped in to do the work. They amended the Patriot Act, making it so government officials could access almost every part of a person's life in an instant, mainly through technology, and do whatever they want to it. This doesn’t violate the fourth amendment, because the FAITH Patriot Act bypasses that. Now, in 2243, crime has dropped rapidly, and in the next fifty years, the crime rate will be back to how it was. All thanks to FAITH.  All of this monitoring is done through technology, so one may wonder why we cannot boycott it. Yet the government makes almost everything in life revolve around the use of technology, making it impossible to avoid it. If one avoids technology for a day and an NSL isn’t recorded on you, then the administration officers will come after you and make you use technology. NSL’s are letters that the government gets which tell them what you’re doing online. Most people send in hundreds each day. We are all prisoners in a terrain of technology.  School is a schlack. That’s slang for a doozy if you don’t know. I try so hard to get good grades, and yet they seem to evade me just as much as a happy life. I have a good lot of friends though. It’s hard not to when you’re six foot five and stronger than most of the other kids. Yet for all of the friends I have, most of them just use me and are jorkers. Those are like phonies. You see, my father is a government worker who helps enforce FAITH, while my mother is a lawyer trying to dissipate it. Even with the little freedoms we have, the first amendment still exists, meaning that people like my mother can still use legal methods to fight back. However, people like Autumn’s parents can’t.  Her parents are part of the movement against FAITH and the laws that have changed America. They are part of a secret society called Lilah. That is the name of the ground because Lilah was the girl who started it all back in 2219, two years after the amendments were passed. She fought for twelve years to stop the program that was stalking, terrorizing, and irrationally killing people. She was killed in 2231 because of her illegal actions. Her bravery has inspired many. Anyone who follows in Lilah’s footsteps may be considered heroic to some, but are just paving the way to their graves.  I decided to sit down on my couch and turn on the television. This television is holographic and shows the images in a lifelike form, but I like to keep it small so I can see all of the action. The television doesn’t have much action, though, as all forms of inspiring or reality television shows have dissipated. What remains are news channels and documentaries of how FAITH has saved America or other programs rewriting history that our ancestors have already written.  The newscaster on screen is currently describing a new building which is being designed in New York City which will have one of the new antennas which all buildings will soon have. These antennas help give wifi to people and all and serve to collect all transmissions, but since the government changes, have allowed for the widespread collection of information around a fifteen mile radius. These were first created in 2235, and have been slowly added to every building in major cities. It is the easiest and most efficient way for the government to control us. Suddenly an image flashes on the screen. It is a short video, which plays on the chime of every hour of every day. It is of the Statue of Liberty, a sign that is everything but. The statue now wears a button shirt with a golden patch below the right shoulder, written on it the same message it screams every hour of the day.  “You are all under the impression of FAITH. You are all under the watch of the United States of America’s Government. You must obey our laws, or you shall be punished. No one is above the law. No one can hide from the law. No one can beat the law.” The statue goes away, and the newscaster quickly continues his message about the building. Just a few seconds later he moves onto his next segment, where he is discussing the case of a criminal named Mat Donovan, a man who murdered a group of three women in an alley in Florida, but was terminated by an administration officer just four seconds later. The body of Donovan was burned with a lighter from the officer's pocket.  Three loud knocks are then heard on my door. I bound up from the couch and moved towards the doorway. I swung open the door and saw Autumn Silverstein staring back at me. She is far shorter than me and her wavy white hair flows in the wind. Unlike me, she does well in school, but her friend count is far lower than my own. Having white hair is unusual for a sixteen year old like her, and many people at school bully her for it. Further, she is very judgemental of everyone else, making it even harder for anyone to like her. I don’t even like her. Nevertheless, she is my English tutor, not by choice but by the force of our teacher, and we have become _friendly _throughout our sessions. However, I planned for no study session and she carried no notes or materials. All she had with her are puffy eyes and a box of tissues. “They’re dead,” she tells me. “My parents were killed by the administration.” I let her into my house, and just as I shut the door, she collapses onto the floor and sobs. I just watch. There is nothing I can do to help. Her parents found the end they knew was coming for them. I do find some comedy, even, in how she only revealed her feelings once I shut the door. It is as if she thinks that keeps people from watching.  That’s funny. Someone is always watching.

It’s the year 2050 and the world could not be more in need of a savior. When you walk outside it’s almost as if the sun’s bulb has been dimmed, or it’s on the verge of going out. The atmosphere was dark and eerie. All of nature seemed to be almost dead, only the remaining roots and trunks stood tall. The streets were empty, not a hovercraft in sight. When a decade ago, shoot even five years ago the streets were packed with citizens. Now it’s as barren as the void within. When the new kings took their reign, they took more than just that crown. They took our will. King Devases believes that the only way to turn this world back around is through a new “program” where all children are summoned to his lands to be what he calls the “reset”. Of course the parents were opposed to this, but his second-hand, aka his general, Devasa ordered his troops to do whatever means necessary to obtain the children. King Devases believes that children have polluted this world. Becoming somewhat lazy and corrupted. So his plan is to turn them into his most successful and fruitful assassins. King Devases sees it as a blessing to the children. “Children are like sponges, ready to absorb any and everything around them. But unfortunately over the years they have been weakened and nurtured to death. In the first seven years of their lives is when they are the spongiest. So I will be their guide, teaching them all the fundamentals and strengths to fight anything that may cross our paths”, said King Devases to his masses. King Devases was abandoned as a child. His father killed in war and his mother became mentally disturbed because of this. The pain was to unbearable for her. She then developed a new perspective of life, it only being within two feet of her. So of course that left King Devases alone and helpless. He held anger for a majority of his life. He channeled all that anger into his training to become one of the greatest fighters Tropica has ever seen. But his inner-child still remained inside, buried under the mask of power. He really is just envious of the children, how they have both parents to coddle them. He would be on the hovercraft and see children rolling around in the grass with their families. He turned his head rolling his eyes, feeling an inner yuck sensation. King Devases was really King Parasite. Living and feeding off of those around him, benefiting himself only while the hosts slowly suffer and deteriorate.

The fox squirmed under the bunny's gaze. Felix knew he couldn't hold it back anymore, even though it meant the true end. Those big ears twitched, waiting for his words. Oh, they’d been talking nonstop for countless seasons—whether winter struck or the scorching sun threatened them both. Sometimes, they didn’t say anything at all, letting actions scream louder than words as they strolled through the forest, hidden beneath leaves and circumstances, far from prying eyes.

Felix had first seen Bun as his lunch. That’s all she was at the start, he reminded himself. He had always been a solitary fox, avoiding the herd or any kind of reunion. His luxurious reddish-orange coat blended perfectly with the skirts of tall acacias, allowing him to move unseen—until he stumbled upon Bun.

Bun, with her endless chatter and glib speech. He didn’t know how she had convinced him to stay. Maybe he’d just been lonely. That feeling blossomed within him faster than he ever expected. Before Felix realized it, he needed the bunny. Not as a simple appetizer, but as a companion.

The fox prepared his internal confession, taking in the world around him. Everything felt sharper, more vivid—the way the light filtered through the trees, the damp earth beneath his paws, the sound of the wind carrying distant whispers. He searched for words beyond the typical three. Words had never been his strength. How could he explain the turmoil? The story? The dichotomy that gnawed at his mind? The need for closeness, the quiet delight he felt whenever she leaped and twirled through the forest, never still.

Before he could utter a single syllable, Bun spoke first.

“Don’t.”

Felix froze. The word echoed in his ears, and he didn’t move, though every fiber of his being screamed for him to take a step closer.

“Don’t do this,” she said, her voice steady.

Instead, he took a step back. His stomach dropped, making the truth crystal clear. She didn’t need to explain—she already had. It was wrong. And she would never, ever feel the same.

He felt like a fool. Roots might as well have sprung from his paws into the soft, humid ground beneath him, because as he watched her hop away, he knew. He knew he’d never see her again.

Quickly moving by the head chef, Marcus yells “Behind!!”, as he carries a large pot of steaming soup. The kitchen is filled with noise, tentacles being dropped into the fryer, the sue chef yelling out orders, butter hitting the fry pan. Marcus makes his way through the maze of a kitchen area, turning and twisting as other staff walk through with their items. Some soup spills on the ground as Marcus turns the corner and splatters purple on the floor tiles. In the dining area the waiters are busy with a full house. Tonight is the restaurants most busy night and they have some high paying customers to keep happy while waiting for their food. On a small stage a jazz band plays, drowning out the loud chatter of the guests and the yelling of the sue chef. “Excuse me, excuse me!” A women with a fur coat, large gemstone necklace, and a stuffed snake used as a scarf, yells at one of the waiters passing by with a tray of food. “Yes, how may I assist you?” The waiter looks young and intimidated. They look between the lady who spoke and the table he needs to be at, the other customers looking angry and impatient. “I’ve been waiting so long for this dish, it’s my nephews birthday you know, I just can’t believe I was invited to be here just for this to be my wait time, I mean does Samantha even know I’m here? I’m not someone to be kept waiting“ The lady keeps dragging on as the young waiter grows more anxious. They start to shake, causing the soup bowls to slosh and spill onto the serving tray. They mutter a quick “excuse me please” before turning quickly, running into another waiter and dropping both trays of food.

Samantha, the head chef, is prepping vegetables in the back. They know how crazy busy nights can get and try to hide away doing prep work and re stalking the freezer. This also happens to be their big delivery day, the head chef needs to be present to make sure the stock has been properly delivered and to sign off on the order. A loud knocking can be heard from the back door and Sam hears the rumblings of the delivery truck. They quickly wipe off their hands on their apron before removing it and placing it on a hook near the door. Sam checks behind them before slipping out the back door, making sure no one is following behind. “Hey Sam” The delivery driver says, lifting open the trucks back sliding door. “I’ve got quite the catch for you today,” they’re rubbing their hands together, warm air visibly escaping their mouth as they enter the refrigerated truck. “Locals said they use it as a dessert, ya know thought you could spice up your menu a little.” The driver heads to the back of the truck until they find a small cube freezer with a lock. Sam rubs her arms while she waits for the driver to unlock the freezer, looking around at the other cargo, piles of frozen calfs, lamb, chickens, even an alligator head. The lock clicks open and Sam turns her head to the contents inside. The driver reveals four vacuum sealed bags, he puts three of them into another bag labeled “exotic meat”, and shows Sam the remaining bag. “So they said something about the eyeballs being sweet, they make a sauce and throw it on ‘em, but these little antennas for the eye got the most delicious part to it. You just crack em like crabs and suck the juice out, then you take the shell and use it as a straw for the brain.” The driver chuckles at his own story, no regard for Sam fake gagging into their hand. “I don’t eat my dishes I only serve them.” Sam chokes out, putting the bag with the rest of them and sealing it up. “I just need to know the species name.” “It was, let me think a second, something grabocious… hmmm.. oh I got it, Garbol-Axetrocious, they come from the planet Juevesen. Ya know that sea planet you asked about. They have a lot of aquatic aliens you could definitely pass off as sea creatures if you ever got busted.” The driver replies. “Yes, yes thank you. I’ll have Marcus come out and unload the rest of the order, here’s your tip.” Sam hands the driver a roll of money and leaves with the bag of alien meat. Inside the young waiter from earlier is franticly running around the kitchen looking for Sam. Tears well up in their eyes as they aggressively open the walk in freezer door. Sam is sitting on the ground organizing the bottom shelves. “I’m so sorry, it’s Lady Shivan, I spilled some soup, the Lady was barking at me, the other worker, I think her name is Matilda, she’s pissed at me, and now Lady Shivan is demanding to speak to you. I’m so sorry, I know it’s-“ Sam walks past the waiter, not letting them finish, heading straight towards the dining room. Someone is still cleaning up the spill while the Host tries to calmly speak to Lady Shivan as she’s standing up and yelling at them. “I’ll have you know i’ve been attending this club for 20 years, I don’t have time to be waiting like this and dealing with your incompetence” Lady Shivan’s demeanor completely changes when they see Sam, their eyes lighting up and their deep set anger lines loosen up as they form a smile. “Oh, Samantha dear, finally someone who can help me.” Sam nods to the Host letting them know they are no longer needed, they give Sam an angry scowl before heading back to the front of the restaurant. “My dear Lady,” Sam greats Lady Shivan with a kiss on each cheek, “I am so sorry for the inconvenience this may have caused you. I have a new special dessert that just came in fresh, I’d love to extend this delicacy to you as the first patron of this club to ever try it.” Lady Shivans entire attitude changes, they look so excited they’re almost drooling. They nod their head, wiping away a bit of spit from the side of their mouth. Sam bows to the Lady before heading back to the kitchen. As the doors to the dining room close she smirks to herself. “Is Lady Shivans soup almost ready Marcus?” She calls out. “Yes I was just waiting on the latest shipment, i’m serving her dish as we speak.” Sam heads to their prep area to get the new dessert ready for Lady Shivan. Patrons come across the country and sometimes even out of country just to be a member of this club. The rich spend so much time having copious amounts of money but not enough time to live according to them. Sam’s father was the original Head Chef, using his status to gain an extra income on the side by selling exotic meats to the wealthy. The exotic meats in question were those of aliens. It wasn’t until later that the wealthy who would consume these other worldly beings found that they were extending their lifespan. If they stopped partaking in the food, though, they would age greatly. This caused them to be consumed with greed and desire. They made the restaurant into a club, making it exclusive to those they deemed worthy to know of their miracle meat. Without their miracle, they would slowly be consumed with madness and turn into a beast. As Sam adds the finishing touches to the dessert, pouring the sauce over the top and cleaning the edges, chatter is heard in the front of the restaurant. Sam hands the young waiter the dish and sends them out to Lady Shivan. Sam heads to the Host’s desk where two investigators are waiting. Some guests lower their chatter upon seeing the investigators, tension filling the air. Lady Shivan is distracted by her delicacy, letting out child like sounds of joy as the waiter sets down the dessert. “We have been tipped that you just received a shipment of-“ The investigator on the right pulls out his notepad flipping through it, “A shipment of Garbol-Axetrocious meat illegally. We have a warrant to check the premises.” Sam compiles her shock trying not to show the investigators any sign of hesitation or guilt. How could they have a warrant so fast? Was she set up? Who else knows about the opporation? The club had been running for 20 years now, if her father found out she messed up the business, “Haha, that sounds like a new kind of bird, what is that? Right this way, i’ll take you to our kitchen.” Sam walks past the customers who all seem to be starring. Lady Shivan is endulging herself in the dessert, making awkward moans as she bites into the eyes. Sam opens the kitchen doors and leads them to the walk in freezer, “This is where we keep our meat, if you have any questions please let me know, i’ll just be over here while you do your search.” Sam steps aside, peeking out at the dining room and at Lady Shivan. The other guests have gone back to eating but visibly look tense. Awkward chatter starts to fill the air, covering up Lady Shivans enjoyment of her dish. The investigators leave the walk in and start making their way around the rest of the kitchen, finishing their search. Sam makes eye contact with Marcus as he comes through the back door. He nervously looks away and heads to the staff room, avoiding both Sam and the investigators. Sam peaks back out at Lady Shivan, who is slurping the rest of the brain juices with the make shift antena straw, a giant grin across her face, her lips stained purple. The investigators tap Sam on the shoulder, startling her. “Sorry to scare you Miss, and sorry to bother you for the night. We found no foreign meats anywhere with our scanners, we’ll be done for the night.” “I apologize for the inconvenience, if you could just see us out.” The other detective states. Sam walks them to the Hosts desk, side eyeing Lady Shivan as she licks her fingers of the last of the evidence. “Sorry for the confusion officers, here’s my personal number if you need anything else from me” Sam hands them each her business card as they leave, they give her a smile and wave in return. As soon as they exit the other customers start back up their regular flow of conversation, Sam lets out a large sigh of relief. “Hahaha, if it weren’t for that newbee waiter messing up in front of Lady Shivan, we may have been caught for sure.” Sam says to the Host who is shaking their head. “We can only hope we’re just as lucky next time. Now about this rat in my kitchen…”

The 8th wonder of the world, located in Mexico, is known as Fingerprint. At first glance it looks like a massive crater. But scientists have discovered that in the crater are large grooves that swirl around eachother, like a fingerprint. Fingerprint is over 300 kilometers wide and over 400 kilometers deep. It quite literally looks like someone dug they’re finger into some dirt.

Fingerprints discovery has lead to a lot of questions. Mainly what else is out there? And was it really a meteorite that killed out the dinosaurs…?

“How did we miss this on the serveys before? It makes no sense how this landed without triggering our scanners.” Looking up at the pile of debris I see nothing familiar to our own tech. Bent metal of a density unlike any we have on Earth, machines that once held a purpose, but are now lumps of burnt material, none of it we could identify. The first report of it came from our scouting team early this morning, saying there was something huge that we haven’t mapped. How could that be? We mapped just last week and the frost buildup on this ship looks old, creeping into the cracks between the facets and expanding the space between the metal plates. We got a team out there as soon as the sun rose, photographs have been taken of the exterior en masse, but no one has gone further than a step inside. No one said why, they just insisted on waiting for me to arrive. I stepped up to the gnash in the metal, looking it up and down, having to take a step back to see the entirety of it. Much of it bent inward from impact, looks to have been from the crash landing, mostly. There! At the very bottom… that doesn’t look like impact damage, more of a chemical burn? Something ate away at the material here, not a lot of it, but I can easily picture the corrosion bubbles chewing small, circular holes. I look back at the field scribe and relay this, they scribble it down quickly in their notebook and look back at me with eager eyes. They wan’t me to go in, they all want me to. I hate being the “fearless” captian. But I am curious myself. Stepping inside, the air is still, frozen, and quiet. My flashlight illuminates the crooked floor in front of my foot, scanning for a clear path. I feel the cold of the ship creep through the soles of my boots as I take another step in. I make it down what once may have been a narrow corridor, now widened and twisted. To my left are flexible tubes, now shredded, once carrying some sort of liquid through the craft, which is now a solid puddle on the ground nearby. The quiet is deadly in here, the only sound my footstep echoing off the walls and back to me. The path ends abruptly at a ladder leading up, ruined, but climbable. I find myself at what I think is the control room, through a small hatch in the corner of the room. I see rows of panels of unmarked buttons and switches, Suprisingly analog to what I expected. Along the walls are what look to be indicators and status displays, not unlike those of a power plant. I see here, symbols, words? A script unknown to me, made of quick and small strokes, a mix of jagged and circular patterns, not written left to right, but seemingly written around a central point. I make a quick sketch, the scribes are going to have a field day with this. A shuffling. A sound independent of my own breathing, echoes through the room. I freeze in place. Could have been the ship settling. A panel shifting. Nothing more. Seconds pass like minutes, but I hear no further noise. I finally force myself to move and look out into the room… Nothing. As I thought. I relax fully now and decide to retreat back to the team. Back down the hatch and through the service tunnel. The light of day shining through, I get a glimpse of the scribe walking back to the entrance. I move up to greet her, climbing up out of the tunnel, resting my hand on the side of the ship. What’s this? My hand feels slick against the metal, I bring my hand back up. A slippery, green liquid now coats my glove. _I don’t remember this being here when I entered. I turn to the scribe, “Did you notice this before?” “Oh, I didn’t! Organic material? A fuel? Oh this is exciting let me get a lab kit!” She runs off down the hill. _ How has this not frozen? I look back inside the slumbering ship. I didn’t see any bodies, did I?

He closed the door. Everything went black. His fingers reached for wall, out of reflex, but found nothing. He was suspended in… nothing. He felt for the stairs with his feet, inching a shoe forward, expecting to find the next step downward, but instead was met with weightlessness. Not the effortless Weightlessness, as through water, no, this weightlessness felt heavy. As though something were pressing on him from all sides, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to think.

And then, it was cold. And he blinked, caught himself, and found this time he grasped the rough facade of bark. Smelled the dry crispness of snow. He was outside. It was dark. He blinked again and a warm, colorful light entered his periphery. He blinked again. Christmas lights. He collected himself, looked around, and realized he was sitting in a haphazard pile of chopped wood. Behind a shed of a house he’d never seen.