Two moons rested on the horizon. An old man stoked the fire, warming his weathered face.
A member of the indigenous species spoke, and a translator in the man's ear asked, "There were water oceans?"
A wistful smile. "Oh yes. We just called them oceans."
He leaned back. Having only arrived yesterday, the night sky was unfamiliar and vast. It had been fifty years since he and other survivors fled Earth.
Fifty years traveling the Galaxy.
"We explored my planet's wondrous blue oceans, fertile lands, and endless sky. There was peace, but more war. And now, my planet is gone."
YOU ARE READING
The Traveler
Science FictionFar from the planet that once was home, a survivor remembers. [Written for the @ScienceFiction November challenge, which called for a Drabble (100 word-story)]
