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+--- Thread: Short Stories Collective (/showthread.php?tid=119809)
Short Stories Collective - Euca - 08-29-2014
// A small collective of stories related to my characters, nothing too important to see here.
Meskhenet never looked so lonely. Usually, it was a bustling center of activity, soldiers moving in and out with the same speed of the cargo ships. Whenever a nomad was spotted, the station erupted with chaos as turrets fired, sirens whirled and ships launched. But now, it was quiet.
The low time was painful for Hideo. It was the time of reflection upon which he'd only reflect on his choices and previous life. There was no one to talk to, no one to break him from his trance. He was alone, just as Meskhenet seemed to be.
But still, echoes persisted in his mind, the same ones that screamed as he fled through the Omicrons, speeding this way past horizontal asteroids that hid more aliens. All he could hear was the constant swirling sound that they produced, ever lasting and ever as painful.
Pain, there was an emotion he;d become desensitized to. Emotional or physical, he had hardened to the pain. But it didn't stop the sounds, or the echoes, or even worse: the memories.
The memories is what really haunted him, a dark room, where he stood with Hirotada, patiently awaiting the secret he'd been trying to make Hideo excited for. The lights dimmer even further, then the vault that was bolted to wall opens as a chill wind leaks out. Death and decay infest the air, inspiring fear. Then, the eyes appeared. Just as the lights died, their eyes flickered in the darkness with malicious intent.
Then, darkness. Suddenly, Hideo was back on Kyoto, running. His bag was packed and his ship was still active. Then flight, then the hectic dash through the Omicrons, then the blind search for Meskhenet, then momentary relief.
The sudden alarm snapped Hdeo back into reality. Standard 93, Nomad patrol, fighters needed. He got up off of his bed and made his slow march towards the launchpad.