A lone wanderer.
Glass shards were bombarding an oval cocoon of forcefield from a sideways, like a flurry of silver daggers. Rattling thuds accompanied an appearance of annular, cyan ripples on a disturbed surface of the imperishable shield. In a vivid spectacle of violent manifestation and imminent annihilation, crystals dispersed into a fog of shimmering dust, concealing a shallow grave.
A dim light of overturned S.O.S. beacon was flickering in a rhythm of astronaut’s slow heartbeat. Beneath a layer of grey dust was a silhouette of a woman in a graphite space suit, just like his. He kneeled and gently removed particles of fine, purplish sand from a screen of her helmet, revealing a decaying skull.
Dead.
Her oxygen supply ran out days ago. There was nothing left to be done other than burial rites.
May your journey continue with us, pilgrim.
Male clenched his fist calmly, pressuring a button in the middle of a palm. A triangular blade of plasma beamed in the dark, outlining a contour of a frail skeleton in an orange afterglow.
Bon’jira Rhenata
After a tiny stripe of cloth was removed and tucked inside a chest pocket, traveler muttered a silent prayer, then raised to admire a barren wasteland for the last time. Dark clouds shrouded the sky, greedily subjugating even the tiniest traces of starlight for themselves and heralding an absolute dominion in an ominous orchestra of thundering, green lightnings which, like a spiderweb, rapidly scattered beneath a raven-black blanket.
A range of mountains guarded access to the east, like an array of perfectly aligned titans, frozen in time and stone. Line of giants extended toward a horizon, where a shadow of the white sun was desperately struggling against an ever-present twilight.
Resonant roars of destructive moon helped to drown out depression and thoughts of loneliness. The ambiance of a featureless, monotonous desert landscape gradually infiltrated man’s emotional barriers. Blood in his veins cooled, adjusting to a temperature around, as he gave in to embrace melancholy – his only company, an addictive narcotic and an only fuel capable of keeping his scout-ship in the empty sky.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
(…)
Glass snow was crunching beneath astronaut’s feet. An obsidian shape of his fighter-esque vessel was trembling on its three landing skids, withstanding an assault of unrestrained hailstorm.
I forgot to put the stabilizers on, again.
Pilot lightly tapped a panel on his forearm three times and ship’s legs were locked in place – at the time, the adamant vehicle was parallel to a rumored widow, who was awaiting the return of her long-lost, drafted husband.
(…)
Decontamination procedures. A warm long shower. A comfy, pink bathrobe. Matching Bunny Slippers. A cup of a bitter, black coffee. An antic radio with music that you can only love. His sixteen date.
You must be mad. Will you accept my gift and forgive me?
Man situated himself in a cockpit and fondly caressed a frame of the frontal window.
“Hey, speak to me, Atala.”
He put on a sad smile, then fixed his eyes on a turbulent scenery behind the glass. Contrary to the outside, a soundproof cabin was completely noiseless and conveyed a sentiment similar to being entranced with heavy, autumn rain and its cloudy, grey sky, while taking shelter in your personal, secluded room.
We still have three hours before the storm.
He referred to the time when thunder weather would critically intensify – lightnings would begin to manifest as broad columns of advancing lights, pulverizing any suicidal entity who dared to muster courage and stay in the way.
It would be a beautiful, but lethal sight.
Not a bad way to go, but a true gentleman is obliged to keep his lady safe.
The pilot put down a steaming mug in a cup holder, then extended an arm to a round, steel table behind it, leaning slightly in the process. He removed a leather memento from a uniform that was resting on top of the furniture, then attached it at a panel above-head, next to other hanging souvenirs.
Althala V, Asteroids of Undooru, The Belt of Irani, The Clash of Three, Red rivers of Inornia, Palace of Khazan, Flesh Brokers, Obelisk of creation, Nebula on the end, Home of the untouched, The Cube of Anaari – Haha, to think that we’ve never got inside, even with a universal key – …Collapse of Fidjer, Kolmoran, Boharan III…
…Earth.
He gazed at a tiny vial with a preserved, lifeless root and didn’t speak, or word his mind any further. Instead, he averted sight to watch the chaos ensuing behind the windshield, suppressing a surge of guilt that should’ve never been his, then continued to blankly stare at the desolate painting, contemplating its exquisite nature and yearning to quench the thirst of his hollow soul one day…
Are we alone in the universe?
No matter how many times he would ask himself, how many marvels he would see and how many new species he would meet and discover. His answer always remained the same.