She hated that smell. The metal of the walls, in marriage with excessive dust, produced a scent that intruded every corner of the ship. From the long forgotten bedroom chambers, to the lifeless kitchen.
But what she hated was not the smell of metal and dust; it was the slow dominion of this scent over the traces of her former crewmates: the residue of canola oil that Hux would leave in the pan; the lavender cream Vena would swipe onto her cheeks before sleep; the trail of Bo's fur as he dashed about.
The little that was left of their lives, continued retreating into the past. Not even a photograph, nor a shadow, could win against the passage of time.
And now this lifeless smell was eating away at the last of it.
Lin stared at the vast emptiness before her. In this infinite expanse of darkness, she felt no freedom, only loneliness. She felt more stone than human. Was there any difference between life and death like this?
Lin had decided that there was. Breaking from her state of stone, she woke from her inertia. And as she rose, a pile of bones collapsed from the sudden motion. She glanced at what remained of Vena, Hux, and Bo, and waved a silent goodbye.
There certainly was a difference between life and death, and Lin knew how to find it.
So she unlocked the gate. And met the emptiness.
YOU ARE READING
2021 Writing
General FictionI've challenged myself to try and write (not every single day because I have miserably failed T_T) consistently in 2021. Hope to cultivate my craft as a writer! c :
