Ever Undying – A Short Story

31 Dec 2011 1 Comment

by Birdwhisperer in Uncategorized Tags: Contest, Figment, Immortality, Science Fiction, Seventeen Magazine, Short Story, Space, Writing

This is for the Figment/Seventeen Magazine short story contest:

I sink into a world of sluggish senses, to a reality I had been free of for a few sweet moments of unconsciousness. My arms feel heavy and numb, my eyes thick and dry.

A violent gush of air fills my lungs. Back out. In. Out. It is the only sound, the only sensation. The whooshing of air.

My eyes flash open and I remember.

Beyond the clear screen that surrounds my face is an ocean of blackness filled with glowing heavenly bodies. I float, trapped, in an endless starry void.

I try twisting around to see the wreckage. The ship, my last vehicle of escape from a dying world, drifts by in pieces.

A glowing panel beneath my visor tells me all about my new prison. I have twenty-four minutes of oxygen left. After that…

My heart spasms. Lost forever. No air. What if no one ever finds me? Will I suffer out here forever, still unable to die? What did I do to deserve this curse? I strain to remember, but it’s too far gone. All those early memories have long been eroded by merciless time.

Here I have found my final resting place. Alone, in the deep. No air. Eternity.

A burst of static breaks through my thoughts. Ragged breathing, not mine, echoes in my ears.

“No…” I whisper.

A man’s shattered voice intrudes upon the relative silence. “He-hello? Is anyone… did anyone else survive?”

I say nothing. Maybe he’ll close the channel. I search for some way to cut him off, keep his voice from reaching me, but I’m not familiar with the controls.

“Oh God,” he says, tears in his words, “Oh Lord God, help me! Why did… please, anyone, say something!”

“Turn off the channel,” I say, squeezing my eyes painfully closed.

“Is no one… no one out there? Oh God, rest their souls. I’m not ready! But if… if…”

“I don’t want to listen to you die!” My voice reverberates around my helmet, screaming it’s way into my skull.

My husband’s face, so old, so fragile, arcs past my mind’s eye. It was so long ago, I don’t remember his name. But I remember his death. I remember my son, looking so much like him. And my granddaughter, begging me to stay with her father in his last days.

“I can’t,” I said, holding her tight as my tears dripped into her hair. She was already graying. “Please don’t ask it of me.”

Then I said goodbye to her children, walked out the door, and never returned. After that I vowed no more love, no more giving life. Nothing more to lose.

My son… I left him. Left him to die alone.

I take a deep breath and glance at the panel. Twelve minutes.

I open the channel.

He hears.

“Hello! Who’s there? Hello?” he repeats, exuberant. “Is anyone… out there?”

I let out my breath. “I’m here.”

I wanted to  actually continue with their conversation, ticking down to the inevitable moment when their oxygen runs out. But I had a 500 word limit, and since I’m not very good with dialogue I decided it’d be best if I left it at that. Maybe someday I’ll continue this scene, or write more about this character’s (very long) life. She’s not going to be stuck in space forever, after all!