So my cw class was assigned to write a 2000 word story.
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Thread Topic: So my cw class was assigned to write a 2000 word story.
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Colony Alpha
"Johnathan Deaux. Day f--- I don't know. 28 hour days really mess up your sense of Earth time. Charlie died seven-ish days ago though. I guess I should talk about how his daughter had just turned nine, or how he volunteered for this mission to make sure she could get through college, or how he was excited to be here because his wife always wanted to travel but never got to. But who cares? I've done enough recorded eulogies. All that matters is that he died seven-ish days ago, and he's beginning to stink. I guess Ill have to start another pit. Guess I figured I wouldnt have to dig this one."
An audible click punctuates the end of the recording. A man with sandstone hair and tired eyes stares at the computer as the log is saved. He hates this part the most. The few minutes of silence where the only noise is the sound of static coming through the intercoms. It sounds like screaming. It's always sounded like screaming. When the computer says the log is saved, he immediately clicks play again. The constant droning of the stations recordings keeps the screams away. It doesn't help him sleep or anything, but it keeps the screams away, and that's enough. He pushes the chair back and picks up his shovel. His arms are frail. They match the rest of him. Thin and weak with hunger and exhaustion. Stepping through the door, he pushes his ear piece in as the story begins again. One informal autobiography at a time.
"Hello Earth, it's Thomas Ramirez! Day one here with everyone from colonist party alpha. They really did wonders with this planet. Imagine it, two years ago this place was completely inhospitable. No atmosphere. No water. Pretty much a barren rock. But you give the boys back home a goal and by God they'll do it. In just two years we have an atmosphere. Oceans. Small forests starting to pop up, they even put some wild life out here. Boss man says that at least one person each week should put up an audio log. Gives us something to do and makes for something the scholars can reference when they write about us.
Wow, thats exciting to hear, isn't it? Were writing history. First colony on a foreign planet. 250 of us land here and spend a year proving that man can exist on another planet. Thats how long it'll take colonist party bravo to get here and no one can really leave until they arrive, so we might as well get used to each other. Boss man says that the days here are a bit longer, so sleep is going to be a little weird for a while until we adjust, but gravity and air are close enough to home that we shouldn't have any other abnormalities. Everything shou... oh, coming! Duty calls everyone. This is Thomas Ramirez signing off!"
Lifting the body is more difficult that he is prepared for. The air here was tailored to grow life. It had done a pretty crappy job with everything except bacteria. So seven days was enough to rot the body unbearably fast. John's mask seems too loose on him. The gloves wrinkle with their extra room. He reaches down and tries to pull on the body. He pulls with all his strength and yet the body doesn't seem to move.
"Listen, buddy. You arent exactly making this easy on me." He heaves as he inches his former friend onto the dolly.
Even through the gloves, he can still feel the film of death that covers Charlie. It takes most of an hour but eventually the body is ready to move.
"Charlie Smith, Day 21. Umm... I didn't sleep much last night. Boss says the length of the days are getting to me. Hell if I know. Everyone seems to be a little on edge lately. Maybe this sleep stuff is affecting them too. Had to fix the coms the other day. Static shielding blew off in the middle of the night and nearly scared us half to death. I patched it up and all and maybe in a few days I crack the box and give them a tune up. But that noise it made... for some reason I can't seem to get it out of my mind. Ions in the atmosphere can make some freaky noises. Oh well, it's my turn to water crops. Nothings sprouted yet, but fingers crossed. Charlie Smith, signing off!"
The squeaking wheel of the dolly can be heard over the voices in Johnathan's ear. He's distant now. Going through the motions of an act that should be unforgettable. On the dolly lies a pile of blankets in the shape of a man as brittle as he is. A pale hand hangs from the side in the way that only dead hands could hang. He passes through the cafeteria. It's dusty and dim. No need in keeping it well-lit when there's nobody to use it. On a table are carved the words 'They were first'. As he passes through, the wind outside picks up and the screams in the intercoms grow restless. A deafening shriek rips through the halls. John falters for a moment as the screams seem to sap his strength away. He lays for a minute, holding himself against the dolly as he waits for the noise to subside again.
"Johnathan Deaux. Day 49. Really starting to regret those 'parties' we had our first week. Crops aren't growing. Weve started hunting some of the animals put here with us. Rabbits make for a quick meal. But theres not a lot to them. We were told there were deer here too. Figured that with animals like deer and rabbits, that we'd have plenty to eat, but you'd be wrong. Rabbits are scrawny. Not a lot to them and we're finding them fewer and further between. And we haven't seen a deer in weeks. Morale is low. Damn static kicks up every few hours to keep us all from getting any real sleep. Charlie says he's working on a solution. I dont know how much longer we can wait though.
John Deaux, signing off. Bye."
The dolly snags as John tries to push it outside. The sudden change in momentum is enough to make him slam in to the handles, rolling Charlie onto the ground. The body twists wrong as something sickly and yellow seeped free. The smell follows and John finds himself doubled over. Spittle drips from his mouth and in to the puddle of stomach acids that he has just produced. He coughs and presses the mask to his face before collapsing back against the frame of the hatch.
"Amanda Finnegan. Day 51. I know it hasn't been a week yet but we had to bury Thomas. b------ hung himself in the night. Nobody's 'cept the first lieutenant, seen the Boss in a couple of days. He's just been locked away in his office. All we're being told is he's reading something important. If you ask me, there seems to be more important things than some damn story. Moral is dead. Thomas is dead. People are starving. How the hell do we get off this damn rock."
He lays there for what feels like eternity. It couldn't be more than a few minutes though. Perhaps this is far enough. Charlie isn't in any hurry. And it's not like he has much to go back to. He's hungry and tired. And so John sleeps.
"Arnold Fletch. Day whatever. Look, point is, me and the gang were out front trying to figure out this crop problem when all a sudden boss man comes out looking pale as a ghost with some kind of envelope in hand. So he looks at us and he says to us, he says he knows why we can't grow any damn crops. He then throws down the envelope and I mean this thing is heavy. It hits the ground with a thud and papers just start falling out of it. Didn't really look at 'em all that long. Boys in the hold are reading through that technical s--- now. Looked like planet readings though. Green world. Nothing like this rock we're on now. But anyways, as I was saying, boss man throws down this packet that's apparently got the answers to all our problems and then he just walks back inside. Me and the boys are just too tired and too confused to really say or do anything for a few. Next thing you know we hear a bang...
Boss man killed himself.
s---'s going downhill and I'm really not having a fun time anymore." -
Johnathan wakes to the sound of the screams in the night. That noise. That terrible wait a second. Something about these screams is different. John forces one eye open a sliver. Its night now. Hours have passed since the sun set. In the distance a beacon of light sets down. He finds it strange that a beacon of light is what he'd hallucinate at a time like this.
"Day three hundred something something. Look, I don't even know why we're making these anymore."
"For posterity. You got anything better to do?"
"Not at the moment."
"Then do the damn log."
"Fine, f---ing hell. I'll do the log
Hello world! Antonio here. Day, three hundred and whatever and life out here still sucks. Since our last log we've lost six. Jeremy, Ashley, Suzanna, Autumn, Carlos, and Michael have all bowed out and weve had to start a new pit. That's the good news. In other news, weve finally confirmed what those damn papers were talking about. Yeah, turns out that this planet wasnt exactly terraformed from nothing. Yeah, turns out silicon based life poses more of a problem after you incinerate it off the surface. You can do all the terraforming you want but when an entire ecosystem is turned in to small abrasive shards that get mixed in with our water and dirt and plants, that it makes sustainable life for us carbon life forms a bit more tricky. So that's the long and the short of it. The isolation is making some go nuts. Theyre calling it, 'the curse of the lives we helped end.' Bunch of gibberish to me. Still though, the coms are unnerving to say the least. And I don't like this place one bit. It's unnatural."
The next few hours for John are difficult to piece together. He feels hands lift him up and the sounds of voices echo in his ears but don't really make sense. He hears gasps and shrieks. These are new screams. Human screams. He feels a sharp pinch in his arm and the rumble of the ground beneath him. And then he sleeps. Wonderful sleep.
"Jacob Smith. Colonist party bravo. Return voyage. We expected to find our sister expedition thriving in our new home when we arrived. Plans were to have agriculture established upon our arrival so that we may begin expanding. What we found instead can only be described as a mass grave. Scans from the rest of the world show signs of life depleting rapidly. Oceans appear to be becoming acidic in nature. Scans are showing no animal life and vegetation has dwindled to small patches across the lands. Among this nightmare however, we have found one small glimmer of comfort in this hell scape. It appears we could not have arrived a moment later. A lone survivor, severely malnourished and dehydrated was rescued from colony alpha. We were able to get him aboard the ship and begin the rehabilitation process. When we brought him aboard he was mumbling something about the screams. The screams coming from the intercoms. I checked the intercoms personally. Some of the components were missing. Theres no way they could have been turned on..
He seems to have been carrying the colony's logs with him. Hopefully they'll shed some light on this situation. Jacob Smith, out." -
War stories are one of the best one can read and you nailed it right. You can get a sense of the atmosphere, the structure is wonderful to me (how it is written, what goes after what) and I like the writing transitions from John to the messages of autobiographies. I can picture this whole scene! If it were a real book I'd read it.
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