Infinite

The stillness of the planet’s surface was deafening. Unruffled by wind or the crashing of waves, an eerie ringing filled my ears. I gazed up from the lifeless dust beneath me to the sprinkling of stars above and the vast clouds of a forming diffuse nebula, the remnants of a dead star. I was far from home, far from my galaxy and removed from time.
As captain of my vessel and the last surviving member I had buried my crew to the heavy quiet of a part of the universe I was not familiar. I had days yet of usable oxygen, the only remaining supplies aboard my ship. Every other system lay in tatters and its cargo had been destroyed in the explosion.
Hunger had eaten a deep pit in my soul. I hadn’t slept for days, fear directing my dreams to the emptiness of space and what filled its overwhelming darkness. And yet for years I had yearned to observe the effortless yet complex flow of the universe, study its patterns and phenomena. Wonder at its vast expanses, ever changing and ever astounding in its mysteries. Now I wished only to be home, to face the simple wars of our world, its petty quarrels and grievances. To fight for a cause that could be overcome.
I continued to watch the stars trail overhead, observing new star patterns and phenomenon still unknown. The dark matter of space was unimaginable, its endlessness both amazing and terrifying. I tried to wrap myself in memory and comfort but still dread filled my heart and fear shone brightly in my eyes, reflecting the stars.
In the vast emptiness I sat, time rippling in waves, as hours slipped by like eternities.

To observe the universe to my undoing.

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Tags:

alone, fear, nebula, shelley warbrooke, ship, short story, space, stars, stranded, terror, universe and writing