Writing Prompt

STORY STARTER

Submitted by Emmeline A. Holmes

You are part of a colony living on Mars. There are alternate life forms at war vying for the planet.

Write a story that is set during this war. Consider that it does not have to be about the conflict, but the story just needs to be set during it.

Writings

In our time

The black outs, constricted days and lengthy period inside got to us all. Gillian called out to Simone for their daily catch up “quick our families on the split screen”. “Alright coming”. They sat down after the announcement made in the light of darkness. After the rolling red dust campaign, the planet was almost in total darkness and the outside even clogged up suits. But that didn’t stop people wanting to stroll around in the new terraformed planet. “Morning, everyone, how are you all?” Susum, Gillian’s mum responded, “Good, but frustrated that even after the end of the bombing campaign we can’t step outside”. Gillian sighed “mum, you know you shouldn’t venture into the dust, regardless if you want to be outside for a while”. “I know, I know, but I can’t take this cabin fever anymore” Susum said. “Well, let’s try do something to brighten the day up, even if we can’t go outside, what about a VR tour of our old home?” “Hmm, I don’t know, I’m sure that’ll feel worse rather than betted.” At the Gillian bit her head off and Simone stepped in to calm. “Well, there’s more than just the two of you here, why don’t we play a game? That’ll pass the time won’t it?” “Alright, alright, what’s the game?” “It’s called in our time.” “What does that entail?”. Simone tried to think about how to explain it simply. “It’s best described as a game of guessing the decade of different objects and thought patterns.”. That doesn’t sound all that fun.

The Day of Red Dust

The dust. There was no escaping it. My life existed solely within an air-tight village, but somehow the dust always got in in. Sometimes I wonder at it (...had to be particles clinging to Suits that had been outside). Sometimes I ignore it. Sometimes, it makes me so angry I could scream.

Today, I wiped down my cooking station calmly, letting out a small sigh when I lifted the rag to see the rust-colored tint.

Absentmindedly, I placed a pot down and turned on the heat source. I was reaching for the grains when, without warning, I was on the ground. Everything hurts. I can’t move.

What’s happening?

Slowly, a ringing in my ears. I blink three times. I bend an elbow, then a knee. Shifting my weight, I prop myself up and look around. The damage to my quarters almost doesn’t register - more pressing is how difficult is it to stand.

The gravity’s calibration must be off.

I begin to notice alarms are sounding. I can almost see myself standing there, dumbfounded. “Move! Think!” I want to yell at myself.

Ok - what alarms are these? Listen. Focus. It’s the alarm letting us know that our section of the village has experienced a direct hit.

No - I must be wrong. Listen again. No - I was right.

The Suits had told us for weeks this was all but an impossibility. They said they had the Others on the run - under control - contained.

Stop. I need to move. It’s happening.

I rush to the entry door of my quarters and grab my Aerator Helmet. I open the door. I see the others running. I join them.

It’s so hard to run with the added gravity. My joints ache.

“How can this be happening?” The woman running next to me is asking - I don’t know to whom. I don’t answer.

Someone has my arm and I’ve stopped running.

“We need you to come with me.” It’s one of the Suits. What was his name?

I still don’t remember by the time we make it to the Secured Area. “I’ve never been in here before.” I say, stupidly. The Suit ignores me and enters a code to open the door.

“Is this her?” It’s the Commander. He looks up from a series of screens.

The Suit nods. I step forward instinctively. “What’s happening?” I ask.

“The Others hit the Supply Quarter. You wouldn’t know, but we had a treaty on the table.” He looked away. “This came out of nowhere.”

“Our diplomatic team left for peace talks last week and haven’t returned. That’s why we need you.”

“I’m not a diplomat.” What is he saying? I don’t understand.

“Your the only one remaining in the Cultural Studies department. You speak their language if I’m not mistaken?”

I nod.

“You’ve just been promoted.” He gestured to the screens. “Let me show you what we’re dealing with.”

I’ve been promoted. I look up. The screens are covered in a light film of red dust.

Bombs Over Head

Surrounding me are other people covered in dust, shaking with fear and clueless as to what will happen next. A group of us, maybe 12 people or so, are squished inside a small crater behind a large rock we can only hope that will protect us. I stare up at it and pray it won’t fall on top of us. In the distance, shouting can be heard. Every few moments, I notice it’s just a little bit closer to us. Pretty soon this crater won’t be enough, but we need a moment to rest. My mind races now as I attempt to remember the area near us so we can relocate in a few moments. A few months ago while going through this area, I never would have imagined I would be hiding in it later so a group of people I just met and I could avoid a less than peaceful death. Amongst my companions in this crater was the sweetest old lady on the planet. Every few minutes, she starts coughing uncontrollably. I know it’s horrible, but every time she coughs my first thought is the hope that no one was around to hear it, possibly prompting an attack from them. Worry for her health should be the first thought that comes to mind, but I guess that’s what the war will do to you after three months. Whenever I look over at her, I see her grandson with one hand on her shoulder and the other clutching her other hand. I don’t think he’s let go of her hand this entire time. Those two always force me to wonder about my own family, the very people who had a hand in the beginning of this war. I haven’t seen any of them since the third week of the war. Of course I worry and miss them often, but I’m also rather grateful I’m not around them. I’d be in an even more dangerous situation than I am now because of the list. Everyone on the planet and on our neighboring planets of course know about the list created by the inhabitants of Mars. The list was made to warn their targets, the small group of people from the Temple colony of Jupiter that began this war by trying to claim more land in the universe. They had already claimed nearly their entire planet and were moving on to Mars, a planet that claimed less land but was still much more prosperous. The leaders of Temple, a group of which my parents belonged, were drunk with power and had to get more land. Unlike many other groups, they put up a fight and it’s still going on today. When the list of targets was published, I had to run away. Luckily, I had visited the planet before and knew the surroundings. I found a group of people surrounding a fire who took me in I assume they were unaware of my last name. Thank goodness.

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Day 325 of living on the Red Planet, and I am bored out of my mind. I still cannot find work due the war. I try to get out as much as I can, when the Zeeps are in their nocturnal cycle. I still find it odd that the Karks don’t attack them, even though their honor dictates that they do not strike sleeping enemies. Yet another way they differ from humans.

I browse the same stores, visit the park. But it’s getting tedious. I applied for re-entry for Earth, but was denied. They planet is still over crowded, and I have no needed skills. Why the hell did I come here in the first place? Fun, adventure, and really wild things? What was I on that I believed that?

Saw Lincoln at the park yesterday. I tried to find the courage to ask him out, even of it was just to coffee, but I chickened out. He was born here, his family was some of the first to travel here, and I know his family looked down on the newbies. I don’t get the sense that he agrees with that sentiment, but I’m just not that sure.

Maybe I could try busking, I have my ukulele. Music is oddly rare here, Lincoln mentioned it was because of the war. Zeeps and Karks aren’t fond of music, and to be fair, they were here first. Not native, of course, but they landed on Mars two generations before us. And course, there was peace way back when.

If I play at night, I won’t disturb them. And I’ll keep busy, and hopefully make some cash. Maybe I’ll impress Lincoln.

I’ll start tomorrow. Today, I just want to stroll in the park, look up at the sky, and see Earth.

Until tomorrow, Dear Diary