No one is really prepared for the vastness of deep space travel. The bleak feeling, coupled with the call some hear from the nothingness, can rot the brain. Void madness they call it.
The danger on a starship of an infected traveler sends shivers through the hardiest of starfarers. People believe those with inflicted minds have slipped into a mindless feral stupor of derangement.
I know that isn’t true, the mind still is cognitive, but all it wants to do is kill. I heft the bloody lunar-ax in my hand from the body and set out to find others.
About the Creator
Don Money
Don Money was raised in Arkansas on a farm. After ten years in the Air Force, he returned to his roots in Arkansas. He is married with five kids. His journey to become a writer began in the sixth grade when he wrote his first short story.
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