#space writing

Humans became a space-faring race. They learned to not only survive, but thrive on space stations and ships. Still, they would continue their search for habitable planets, and they would eventually find a few candidates. Humanity begins to attempt colonization of a rocky, snowy exoplanet, with its core curiously exposed, but burning.

They would soon come to discover another planet nearby, with a dead core. Cold, rocky, and interspersed with cave entrances. The inside of the planet was a giant interconnected cave system, but they didn't explore far. The crew that landed here were forced to flee from the planet's dominant life form, with the entire crew fortunately making it safely back to the ship. Or did they? Perhaps things are not as they seem...

“Shit.” That's all Calliope can think as the engines on their hopper stalled and stopped. To call it their hopper was generous, as she stole it from an Arcaedias shipyard mere hours prior. The log she managed to swipe from a mechanic said it was only being serviced for minor security issues, not a failing reactor and leaking back up fuel cells. The Lavender Rose was just a small transport hopper, no one would miss it. They could take it and finally have a way out of the slums of Arcaedias. Now it was going to trap her in a way that the slums never succeeded at.

As the reactor shuts down, a familiar chill fills the room. An empty, indifferent, uncaring cold. Familiar to all of the residents of the outer ring of Arcaedias. The cold of lost power and desperation. The cold felt while working the worst maintenance jobs on the station. Calliope scrambles to find the emergency environmental suit. Hopefully this one safety measure will be able to save her. Their hopes are dashed as they reach the locker and find only a half measure of safety. The suit that should have been their savior missing, replaced with a simple helmet, air tank, and propulsion pack. None of this suit will save her from the oppressive cold that was seeping in from the space beyond the hull.

Calliope sighs as she puts the suit on. At least it will save her if the hull breaches or the life support is gone too long. At least until the cold gets them. Frost starts growing on the massive slates of glass that surround the cockpit of the tiny ship. Its sharp edges and points grow, threatening Calliope with their inevitable end. She keeps trying to find a way out. The ship is too small for escape pods or large scale backup systems, it was only meant to go between Arcaedias and Luna Coalition Space. The transponder beacon was part of the security systems that were broken, and they were so far off the regular routes that no one would likely pass by this piece of space anytime soon, if ever.

It succeeded, the cold beyond finally has her trapped, no options left. She ran to escape it, stole to escape it, and all of that was for naught as the cold creeped inwards. The frost grew all around them. The walls of the hull, the screens of the dead consoles around her, crawling up the chair beneath them.

In one last desperate attempt at survival Calliope opens the innards of the comms console, and selectively rips wires out, connecting them to a simple 2 way radio comm she had. It was rudimentary, but hopefully this will let them send a signal out. Anything that could get her saved. Tapping out a simple pattern, one anyone would recognize, sending out rhythmic spikes of static to hopefully call for help. Just then, as they were finishing the pattern, and setting it on a loop, her breath catches in her throat. She can't breathe.

Each attempt at a breath just felt wrong, too empty. She is trying harder and harder to breathe. Their helmet grows warmer with the feeling of suffocation overwhelming them with each additional attempt at a breath. The life support had been out too long, and now their air is gone. 

Struggling with the half suit she donned, Calliope desperately tried to get its backup airflow running. 

What if it's empty? 

What if it's broken? 

It's only a half suit, can it even help me?

Thoughts race across their weary mind as the fog grows on the helmet, each laborious breath covering one side while the frost grows on the other. The frost, she had forgotten about the overbearing cold, the barbed chills piercing her to the bone.

The world starts to blur around them, dizzy, and fading. Falling out of their seat, she hits the ground, the chill making it harder to move as her breathing becomes less and less effective. 

Then, a slight hissssss, and the indicator on their helmet activates, signaling the usage of reserve air. Could it even save her at this point. Their vision grows darker as the fresh, oxygen filled air enters the helmet. Is this her fate, to die in this small stolen ship, far away from anyone, alone with the void? 

Instead of writing a full length sci-fi novel, I’ve just been writing short stories as I world build.

So here:

The next chapter of my Painter Of The Night fic “Planterium” is live on Archive Of Our Own (ao3)! Click on the link below and remember, feedback in the comments is always welcome. Merry Christmas!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870581/chapters/89608687#workskin

She was an Event Horizon The Alpha. The Omega. The only escape was embrace. So, He dove in Longing for Forever.

The stars warped and twisted. He fell. The Universe presenting every truth, He fell. Fell until He could no longer see.

Warnings-

Characters- Henry, the moon man. Endless eyes forever watching?

Plot- Henry plays in the stars.

A/n- Henry i love you, and thank you for kicking off this blog. I can't wait to do more with you Henry!

-

He swayed and sung with stars that seemed to hang. With galaxies and Valkyries he stays. Wings made of the inky black, freckled with the colors of the night.

He drifted peacefully some days. Willing to let nature take him away. Other days he swam, glided through empty space with friends he made along the way.

From small little fae to gentle giant whales. He left a mark of life on a colorful void. Drifting gently from planet to planet.

He was a void, the shape of what ever he chose. Made of stardust and solar systems. He seemed to decorate the land.

He paints the sky at night, with precise and powerful movements. He was quiet in his ways, silent and kind. He knows what comes in the dark, the beauty and the terror.

Those who use it to hide, and those who use it to see. The moon seems brighter some days. Someday its dimmer. He sees what happens at night, in moonless skies and bright nights.

Hes flattered, to find so many people love the moon, the dark skies and starry seas. So many bathe in the light of the moon. Earth really is one of his favorite planets. He stays for a while, before he has to go.

He travels from place to place, as much as he would like to stay. He falls in love with the stars we paint in place of him. He memorizes every fleck and dot. Learning the names and singing them softly.

He has wings made of a neon glow. Around a void with feathers set to flow. e sits on moons, watching the planets turn. He burns the sun and watches it grow.

He is everlasting in a world we are so easily replaced. We retrace our steps, through life and life again. He watches us stumble through our short years. Laughing with the jokers and mourning with the somber. Enlightens the stoic and guides the lost.

He can never stay too long though. He would rather separate with his last thoughts of them smiling widely. Than breathing into the stars for one last dance. No, he would rather burn the sun and moon, set the world out of place. But this was not his place, to decide who lives or dies.

He was just a moon man walking among the stars. But the stars never let him wander alone for long.

He made friend, human, alien, and non descriptive blobs alike. Henry never had many close friends. Nor did he feel like many would understand. He did though. He was friends with the universe them self.

He circles the nebula like a brush mixing paint. Flecks of stars mix like glitter, chemicals paint the empty void to be full of life. A wash of black to highlight the importance of it all.

Every speck of darkness, every speck of color. Every nebula, every galaxy, every single person here. Henry knew the name of, he new their favorite food, their favorite color. He mourns all of them, but he keeps how beautiful they are closer than the pain.

Every little grass blade is important to Henry. Every little star dust, the sand between his finger tips. Every single bit, whether or not they saw themselves like he saw them.

He sees them art works, like an opportunity to be taught. He sees us like the most beautiful art in the world, and he asks for little in return.

The only thing he does ask for though, if just for you to stay in the sky a little longer. Just so he isnt as lonely as he would be without you.

tag list!

like, there’s some alien who is all tinted in blue, and you are like, “what are you?” 

and the alien is like, “I’m a human.” 

and then you’re like, “no you’re not.”