Tag: end of the world

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words only. I’m less strict about that now. They dont always finish, I just like to try and evoke a certain feeling or scene.

Spencer stirred slowly as the cryo pod hissed and opened, his head pounding and the cabin lights causing him to reach up and cover his eyes.  He breathed deep trying to quell the nausea.  Hauling derilium ore across the galaxy was great money and the chance to see the colonies was something so few Earth born would ever experience but he’d never get used to the effects of coming out of deep sleep no matter how many times he did it.

Still squinting he checked the readout on the small display on his wrist.  Coordinates and timings checked out, he was back home.  Excited, he pulled himself from the pod, head spinning and stumbled over to the bridge, desperate to get a glimpse of the planet he had left behind nearly 150 years ago.

“What the…” he mumbled steadying himself against the back of a large chair.  He looked down at the control panel in front of him, lights blinking.

“Calista, confirm destination coordinates reached.” He said stabbing at a flashing red button.  The proximity sensors were on overload.

A flat calm voice responded.  “Coordinates for Earth orbit reached, local year is 2187.”

They had to be wrong.  “Calista please recalibrate and verify coordinates.”

“Coordinates for Earth orbit reached” she repeated.

Struggling forward he walked slowly over to the long wide window at the far end of the deck.  Where there should have been a planet all there was rock and debris as far as he could see.

“Calista where is Earth?” he asked.  There was a brief pause.

“Coordinates for Earth orbit reached” she answered.  “Records show no transmissions from Earth for 30 solar cycles.”

“Scan for local signals” he instructed.  Something must have survived whatever had happened.

Ore freighters didn’t have a crew or captain, programmed to track to their destination coordinates and only wake the solitary crew member – the engineer – in the event of significant technical difficulties.  Obviously Earth being rubble was for some reason not classed as a significant.

“No signals across any frequency detected” she answered.  “Scanning complete”

He stood and considered what to do next, his head still fuzzy from the effects of spending 70 year frozen as he tore across the galaxy.

“Calista, estimate return route to nearest Earth outpost, factor in remaining cryo reserves.”  HE knew he didn’t have enough for a full trip back to the nearest colonies but reserves should get him somewhere he could refuel and refill the cryo.

It took her longer than he had expected.  “Calista?”

“Estimates indicate that with current reserves and running STL drives at 10 percent to maximise remaning fuel it will take approximately 22 years to reach the nearest outpost at Sentauri.”

“And how much capacity have we got in cryo?  I really don’t want to be awake for 22 years with just you for company, no offence intended”

“None taken” Calista responded.  “Reserves will permit 5 years of additional deep sleep.”

“That’s it?  Five?”

“Affirmitive, Five”

Spencer sat down in the large chair and stared out into space and wondered whether the ships computer had solitaire built in…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words only. I’m less strict about that now. They dont always finish, I just like to try and evoke a certain feeling or scene.

The smell of blood and gunpowder mixed with the crack and fizz of musket balls filled Abel’s senses. Cold steel met soft flesh and a young lad, no more than 18 years old, collapsed lifeless next to him – dark blood seeping into his grey uniform. His heart thundered like the endless roar of cannons trained on their position from the ridge and he took a drink from his canteen.

Looking over to where General Lee stood he reached for his revolver. It was time to end this war.

He raised his revolver but before he had chance to squeeze the trigger there was a flash of light and he found himself back on the table in the departure centre.

“Change of plans Abel” came a voice over the comms, “were going to let the war continue a bit longer.”

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else.  Originally they were 101 words only.  I’m less strict about that now.  They dont always finish, I just like to try and evoke a certain feeling or scene.

Amos sat in the old rocker looking out across the open fields in front of the farm house.  He watched wisps of clouds dancing across the sky and jet trails slowly dissolving into the blue and remembered a time, long ago now, when he was more than the frail old man now living out the last of his days watching the seasons pass from his window.  Snippets of another life he was no longer sure were even his.

“You see that girl” he said looking over at a canary is a small cage on a dresser next to the window.  “you see those vapour trails? That was me once.”

The small yellow bird cheeped almost as if in response.

His eyes weren’t what they once were but he could still make out the feint outline of the city in the distance and he watched as shuttles, from this distance mere specks, took off and headed upwards towards the east pacific low orbit station.

There was a flash of silver as the sun caught the side of a large long haul transporter rising slowly upwards and he remembered, not at all fondly, the early days long before anti-grav when they had to strap you to a rocket just to get you into orbit.

He didn’t miss the take offs but he each landing was fresh in his mind as the day he had made them

“Good times” he mumbled to himself rolling a small red rock no larger than a thumbnail between his fingers, a memento of his last trip to Mars smuggled home and his most prized possession.  He rocked slowly and pulled a blanket over his knees.  He looked at it and his eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face.  He had kept it locked away for decades but today, today he wanted to hold it.  It was softer to the touch than he remembered, perhaps from being kept in the old cigarette tin in the dresser.

“I went there you know” he told his canary.  He had told her uncountable times but he didn’t know that, not anymore.  His once sharp mind was now a lottery when it came to the things he remembered and the things he did not.  “I saw sunrise over the Martian planes, before we stopped going there and trust me, it was a sight to behold.  Miles of red, like a sea of blood stretched out before us.”

The canary cheeped and cleaned her feathers, then hopped down to the bottom of the cage.

“Oh yes” he continued proudly, fragments of past glories now darting about his mind. “I was a real American hero indeed.”

The canary chirped again, and then for a second time as Amos suddenly stiffened, a look of pain etched across his face.  His right arm reached for his chest and the small rock fell from his hand.  Amos gasped as the bird continued to chirp loudly, now in full cardiac arrest.  Hands clenched into fists the life ebbed slowly from his body as his eyes glazed over and with a final gasp Amos McCartney drifted into nothing.

And with that final, his body now relaxed the chair rocked forward crushing the small rock fragment, red dust smeared on the carpet beneath the runner of the old rocking chair.  The canary chirped wildly, hopping up to the small wooden perch and then back to the cage floor but there was nobody to hear it or heed it’s warnings.

Slowly, spreading out from the spot under the chair a red stain began to creep.  It first engulfed the chair and Amos, turning them a dark ochre red and, moments later,  the wood and flesh and plaid blanket on his knees suddenly collapsed into dust.   The canary chirped wildly, flying around the small cage panicked.

Outwards it then began to spread and in a moment the chirps of the canary were  silenced…