Broken Pixels

I recently had a conversation with my lovely girlfriend about short stories. I was able to tell her of my older stories and how shit they were :| Anyway, she had the amazing idea of me trying to write a new one. Half an hour later I had a brainfart and figured out what I had wanted to write about. This short story has no plan, I had no intention of sharing it with you guys, it was sorta something for her eyes only but I actually rather enjoyed writing the first part of it :) Enjoy and tell me what you think of it

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1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1


It was quiet, for now anyway. The fleet had been destroyed by an unknown threat, something that they had heard only legends about back on earth. A threat so great that merely believing it existed put you at a permanent disadvantage.


A lone crew member, a private, was the last alive on the god-forsaken scrap heap left behind from the attack. Sparks flew over his head in an arc and smoke danced lazily upwards in awkward spirals, the smoke was so thick that if a spark were to unfortunately find its way into the smothering fumes they would be engulfed, never to be seen again. Bodies of unfortunate crew members and service bots were strewn around the flight deck like used napkins on an office worker’s desk and blood covered most intact areas of the ship’s walls, leaving little space to admire the cables behind. Luckily the ship’s false atmosphere had remained untouched allowing the survivor to continue surviving until he regains consciousness; if it had been touched then I guess you know what would’ve happened. However, due to the false atmosphere fires thrived and spread through what was left of the service corridors and stopping any means of escape.


Hours passed and the survivor returned to the real world. He was trapped under a fallen plate of metal from what used to be a wall. His vision was greatly impaired due to clouds of smog; he clutched his injured collarbone, checking for any fractures. Sadly he found many. The plate was jammed through the floor, trapping his lower abdomen and limiting his breathing capacity to mere wheezes. He tried to call for help but gained nothing from it, his wheezes weren’t audible over the buzz of exposed wires and even if they were no one was there to hear them. He spluttered; causing his fractured collarbone to move around and dealing a great amount of pain. Is it my time to die? Was all of my training? Is it going to take a piece of scrap metal to kill me? I think not. He tried his best to move the jammed metal using his good arm but his attempts were futile, without the use of both arms he would not escape that cold, heartless plate. His frustrated wheezes were just audible over the buzz still being made from the exposed wires but as he was the only living organism on that wreck he may as well have not made a sound. He was desperate now, he truly wanted to escape the plate but it was to no avail. He tried feeling around him for an object to pry it away from him but all he found was an old newspaper; after trying to use that he realized that he was stuck, alone, drifting through space without anyone knowing of his existence. He was truly alone.

 

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