Instead of returning to her command couch as she usually did to emphasize she expected orders to be followed, she remained where she was.
She was so utterly lost. The night sky was all wrong. Things that shone did so haphazardly, at what seemed like random intervals, their light was alien. Gone were the beacons, those guiding lights that were perhaps the only relatively constant thing she had known, except herself. And Norbert, poor old Norbert, half senile, half gone, greatly diminished but ever faithful and attentive.
Space is dark peppered with trillions of billions of millions of dots of light, that are streaking outward in spiral of tears, within this unfathomable black mass. Space is void, numb and mute. Space is deaf and voiceless. Space is the sacred home of the old gods; yet hostile and violent to life. Exposure leads to blood boiling in freezing veins that violently undulate, before bursting and cracking apart; exsanguinating spores of blood-ice crystals into the darkness from every single pore of exposed skin. Eyes crystalize, expand then then pop with no sound at all.
“She dreams of the ocean late at nightand longs for the wild salt air”- Author unknown
[Hello, and once again I am back. I just want to thank my followers on Vocal. I am going to be scaling back on my writing for vocal so that I can focus on writing novels. Still if you like what you see here you can follow me on twitter @amccaul1976 and just about everywhere at the same handle. Again thanks for reading.]
A night on Mars. The stars in her eyes as she peered deeply into the night sky. Home alone in her capsule. Home like when she was young. Wedged like a sphynx into a curvature that bore through the outside wall of the rectangular enclosure and held its lone window - a clear, circular lens capturing the brilliance of the constellations above Mars.
"In the Year 2525, if man is still alive, if women can survive, they may find." That opening to one of the most memorable hit songs of the late 60's set a very ominous tone for the future of mankind. Subsequent verses pick up a very foreboding story of mankind spanning 10,000 years. As with Nostradamus's disturbing predictions, Zager & Evans constructed an altogether more disturbing and sobering scenario for the future of humanity. A little more than 500 years from now we may find mankind at the mercy of all the technology we have created.
“Dad, Mr. Rebacky is concerned about your behavior,” Mike said. “Snapping at the other residents. Staying in your room all day. Maybe you should talk to one of the therapists.”