For eons, we’ve been like this.
Striving for ways to go faster. To do things better. What used to take us centuries now only take a few minutes. With the help of our machines, we can speed things up. Skip through time. We can cheat the system. Grow crops in days. Cook food in seconds.
Reach the stars.
That’s what we were always clambering for. To be able to walk other planets. Rove through asteroid belts. Brush against the stars. Going fast—moving at the speed of light—that was the only way to achieve that.
And we did.
Centuries ago, we did.
And it wasn’t enough.
It’ll never be enough.
We always have to go faster.
Sometimes, I think it’d just be nice to…
Turn the power off.
Slow down a little.
Drift. Continue reading “Drift”
“It’s falling apart.”
“It’s always been falling apart.” As I walk away from the glass dome, I poke him in the head, doing my best to smile as I call him, “silly goose.”
And then, I feel it.
The ship gets rocked with the blast. With fire cracking tectonic plates to bits. Crumbling lives, calling for rescue. A million things left behind.
I feel the shockwave. Tremors of love and loss. Of desperation and pain. Of joy.
Beneath the glass dome of the ship, he stands and watches as it happens, and I can’t blame him for not looking away.
The world beneath us burns. Continue reading “When We Fall Apart”
I hear your name, whispered against the dark waning moon.
It calls to me.
Spurs me onward, encourages me.
I dive in.
That swirling abyss that brings me to stars. That brings nebulas to their knees. That cracks the very foundation of Jupiter, itself.
I dive into that darkness. That depth.
And I expect to see nothing.
Nothing but you. Continue reading “Marvel”
The sky was blackening, the exact reverse of a whiteout. All of it going dark, simmering away into nothing. Wisp-like. Smoke-like. Stars winking out all over the damned place. Giving in, giving up, giving out.
And he stood there, smirking. Eyes hollows, empty holes. Eviscerating anything that dared venture closer to those dismal openings. That hellish hunger.
He stood there smirking, beneath the dying stars.
And I stood there, too.
Staring him down.
If this is the end… then…
So be it.
I’ll use it all—I’ll use everything.
I’ll give it everything I’ve got.
I won’t go down so easily.
I will fight.
Continue reading “Stealing Stars”
There was a quiet song.
A lull in the void.
Static that, when focused, became edging. Drawing. Alluring. A song that gave promise to stars, and hope to blackholes. It punched through the continuum with gusto, displaying feasts and boasting of something sturdy on the edge of the horizon, something soft lurking at the very back of space itself. A river coaxing the fish out to something bigger, something better. A creek hidden in the foliage. A place to replenish when depleted.
There was a quiet song in the universe. One that I thought I heard only in my dreams.
But, that wasn’t so.
The song was real.
And it was beautiful.
It was loud.
And it was true to its word.
The song I followed into the universe…
It was you.
All along, there was only the one source. The one promise. Just the one.
It was you. Continue reading “Melody Beyond Imagination”
“Do you expect the light to return, simply because you wish for it? Should the earth bow so easily to your whims? Plunge others into discord to sate your despair?”
I flinched, convicted. Conflicted.
Part of me said yes. The part that was not made from stars. That longed for something other than the dark. That wished for the sun to return so I could warm myself against its gently sizzling beams. Those rays that would warm my soul like nothing else could. That part of me was foolish. That part affirmed.
Part of me said yes.
But, the other part?
Of course, it was more reasonable.
Even under the the heaving dark, amassing with stars. Corralling light and shadow together to create the beauty that dusted the heavens. Even as oppressing as the earth’s darkness was—as boastful, as ravenous—still.
Part of me said no.
…the correct part, more than likely. Continue reading “Shadow of the Stars”
It was a rough day.
Six people had called in sick at work, four of my classes had their finals today, my car broke down, and now?
Now I have to do dishes.
And fix the broken lamp that my cat knocked over.
Sighing, I get out the broom and dustpan, ready to give in. Throw it all away.
And, in that small moment of weakness, I say it.
I say it.
“Okay Dad, you can come take me away any time now.”
It was a joke. One-hundred percent, I was joking.
But, wouldn’t you know it—
That’s sayings got some truth to it.
Speak of the devil.
Right? Continue reading “Shooting For Normal”
The key to scavenging is:
Recognizing something with potential value.
If you’re ambling around a wrecked city, you can’t stop to look at everything. Wrecked cities are chock-full of nasties. Monsters that have been mutated, people that are hungry enough that they’ll eat anyone, falling debris. Havocked Cities—or, as we call them, HC’s—are extraordinarily dangerous. Especially if you’re unfamiliar with that planet’s history. And, as a scavenger, it’s not that often that you can get your hands on a reliable, sturdy, in-tact history of a planet. So, instead of muck around, we get right to business:
We make assessments.
Eyeball where the valuable things are, and head out for those. Taking apart the whole city is a waste. HC’s are way, way too dangerous to play around in. You’re likely to lose a life or a limb trying to pick the whole place apart.
We learn a few tricks.
After all, it’s always been said:
A scavenger’s eye can’t be beat.
Continue reading “Boxed Value”
Mercenaries have no mercy.
That’s what I was always taught. That we, the unlucky few, manage to get hired because of that reason and that reason alone.
We have no mercy.
When we fight, we pull no punches. When we dive, we swim with sharks. And, when we speak—
We don’t withhold the truth.
Don’t ask a mercenary for anything. Not unless you can handle the clearest cut.
That’s what goes around the galaxy. That’s what we’ve been taught—what everyone has been taught.
If you want someone who’s going to hold back.
Don’t hire a mercenary. Continue reading “Sitting In The Dark”
They say there are quite a few types of love. A handful of ways in which our bonds to people are forged, what they mean, how we respond to them. People are strange, and all of us are very different, you see. And so, although you may connect to one person a certain way, it’s almost a sure thing that you won’t connect to another person the same. Because, with one person, you’ve been through one thing. A very unique, very different experience. As you live your life, you never replicate your experiences—it’s impossible. And, even more impossible, is replicating those situations, and the people your with, and their reactions. Especially if you place a new person in an unfamiliar situation.
What I mean is:
We’re all different. And, in our differences lies our experiences. And in those experiences lies different people as well. Different reactions to those experiences.
And so, the cycle churns onward. Forging bonds from these differences—personality, and character, and experience, and self—all of them meshing together to create these different relationships. Tethers that vary from person to person, in type and strength and importance.
And every moment—every difference that’s added or subtracted—is more than what we are.
Moment to moment, person to person, it all makes a difference.
Every moment we share counts.
It all matters.
Every moment counts. Continue reading “More Among The Stars”