In the Blackest of Space

“Deeper, deeper into the furthest reaches of the continually unexplored multiverses!”

“In the blackest of space, the demons, they lie in wait to take their rightful place, and seal our icy fate. When there is no more blood to spill, and there is no more air to breathe, there will blow a silent chill; none left alive to grieve. On this ghostly, ghoulish night, passing through this dark reign, a silent ship in flight, unaware of the arcane.”

GS-336 hurtles towards its destination at incredible speed. There is a sector of space that has been entirely disavowed by the Network, none allowed to travel in its vicinity. Crafts disappeared here, never to be seen or heard from again, not even a distress signal has ever made it out of here. I don’t believe in anything that could destroy me; I decide to travel directly through it. I’ll find out what’s causing this, and crush the life from it, or finally meet my end.

Suddenly, as I enter into this unknown triangulation, an uneasy feeling entirely unbeknownst in times before passes over me. Bombarded by immense psychic and ethereal waves, the ship loses power, disengaging the dynamo drive. This has occurred to countless crafts, never to be heard from again. This craft may just prove to be different, however, because this time, I want it to happen.

As I travel between the doorway towards the engines in an attempt to reengage them by hand, a strong chill runs through my body. I freeze. I switch through the light filters of my helmet to check for foreign intruders on other visible spectrums. Feeling uneasy, attempting to remain calm, I breathe, and brush off my arms while continuing to change the light patterns. The second my hands are about head width apart, the filter switches again, revealing a hauntingly terrifying apparition, holding on to my right upper arm and left elbow, screaming. It has no neck or ligaments, just a floating skull on blue fire with skeletal arms, and a tattered cloth shawl, all transparent with a blue glow. Holding it in my arms as such, I spin it around, to face the cockpit; only to see more visions. Visions of non-existent crew members being disembowelled before my very eyes; gore and innards hit the floor, and fly against the walls, leaving long hard trails of blood. Then it all goes black. I never expected this: ghosts, I’m not ready and am not prepared. I suspected it was some sort of marauder vessel, disabling communications and purloining the crafts and wares aboard, or powerful cosmic abnormality.

“From the outside, one can see the magnificent craft suddenly stop, trapped in the gossamer. Then, after a few short moments, drift, drift, and drift downwards, pulled by forces unknown, guiding this wicked descent to a ghostly ethereal planet below.”


One Response to “In the Blackest of Space”

  1. very weird this one.

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