Daybreak #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

daybreak

 

“It must be done,” she said in a calm voice, her everyday voice.

The dawn was stunning. “I am going to leave you, and all the beauty…” he thought, silent. He had made the pledge long ago, when it all started. Invasion. Invincible machines. Cities burnt to ashes.

Then, all knew it would take some sacrifice. Against inhumanity, to win and survive would take more than courage. There, a short distance from them, lied the devils, yet unaware.

They would see him, though, but they would not, could not recognise what he was before it was too late. Just a human being. They may even try to capture him, to play.

His comrades had already disposed of the other aliens. It took only a small nuke, for each nest. But it took a human to do it. This was the last nest left.

The human spirit.

They kissed. There was no tear: they were both beyond tears. Her chopper waited nearby.

He checked his watch. In ten minutes he would start the walk toward the hill. By then his wife would be far enough. She would see the mushroom though. Just a small nuke.

Remembering H.G. Wells

#VisDare 105: Liberated #WritersWednesday

liberatedI see them: there are two of them, ordinary blokes, a little old-fashioned. They are taking the stars away: they are stealing our night sky, never to return. Around us is the mere emptiness of a poor world, half built, incomplete, empty of life, devoid of joy. Who are these people? Are they even human? Or are they mock-ups, machines pretending to be like us? Who control them? Do they have masters, or do they have their own mind, obnoxious, intrusive, ignoring beauty, perhaps even hating beauty?

Now it becomes clearer to me: they are unbuilding our world, destroying all traces that once we were here, taking human life apart, stones and all… No more stars, neither in the sky, nor in our souls: this maybe how it will finish, a deconstruction of us, what we stand for, poetry, children, sex, all creation. How can this be? Us, never again? Help!

#DailyPrompt: Shape of Your Year

Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt: State of your Year…

这@vervol采集到雕塑(274图)_花瓣人文艺术She stopped near the girls’ cave, noticing the sensors were still on. “They are so careful, now they have learned…” she told herself. Soon they would depart, for the long journey…

It had been a good year, at long last she’d cracked the code, and the girls’ language. Of course she’d been lucky. Not only she’d kept alive – not a mean feat being alone with twenty feet high monsters that could split a rock in one blow – but they had started communicating, and quickly understood what she expected.

Yes, there was the solitude, she was after all the only human being in an immensity of millions of parsecs. She sometimes thought of him, her hero, her lover, the one who had protected her with his life, his cherished body now buried in the deep grave near Alph Centauri. She carried his memory, deep, in the secret core of her heart.

The girls emerged, their pleasure in seeing her visible from the tremendous oscillations of their antennae.

“Good morning comrades!” she said. “A good year in front of us, and the ship is well advanced already!” They greeted her in return, the huge bodies mimicking a little dance. Each one of them must have weighed twenty tons. A great help when you deal in high energy metallurgy…

“One year” she thought, and on this vast planet, so rich in the resources she needed, one year was ten Earth years.

#VisDare96: Inevitable #WritersWednesday

InevitableAt first, I did not know, whether the water was flowing in, or out.

The door stood ajar, old, framed by ancient ivy and medieval stones, as if it were waiting for a visitor, but not so inviting, perhaps even warning the daring intruder…

Immobile, silent, I waited, for a sound, a sign, maybe even a voice: but there was no sound, even the slow, hesitant, waves at my feet appeared to be muted.

Slowly, approaching the door, a thought: is this water alive, watching, listening, and waiting too? Waiting for something to emerge from the darkness within? Waiting for some creature from the deep, from times long forgotten, to throw a tentacle, searching, sensing, hunting for human life?

Did I come here in search for a lost truth, for a lost identity? Were there so few survivors, and did I come here to surrender, to accept defeat, and to die?

Image: Jerry N. Uelsmann, untitled, 1969, at http://www.all-art.org/art_20th_century/uelsmann1.html, via Angela Goff

#FiveSentenceFiction: Engulf

engulfedShe wanted to be herself, confident and able to chose: where she would go, who she wanted to live with, or not, what she would do with her life.

Long ago, when she was still a little girl, she had made up her mind: she would not follow, she would not go with the flow, even more: she would lead.

And now, she was here, on this world, alone of her species, surrounded by creatures who were so different from humans, and those creatures worshipped her: the huge bodies, armoured like monsters of legend, capable of shifting megatons – they approached her silently, their tentacles raised in sign of submission.

She was so small, on this planet, so far away from her own star, the only survivor, she was so alone, and yet she felt the prospect of a new life, after all, she’d even started talking with them.

Suddenly, she knew: at long last she’d found her destiny: she would be queen, she could even, perhaps, find a way to start a dynasty: this world had immense resources, and she would reign on a powerful people.

Image source: http://alexandra-sousaa.tumblr.com/

#VisDare 90: Clarity #WritersWednesday

ClarityWhen he woke up, there was light, diffused, the sort of light made of winter mornings, or perhaps the light after the fall: when broken things can no longer be mended.

So, he looked out of the window (or so he thought), a thin, metal framed construct, designed to keep him in, or perhaps, other things out.

Below him the road stretched, interrupted by a chasm, a blackhole of fog: how did he get there?

Then he remembered: the blast, the rain of melting steel, their column swallowed up by burning empty space: and, now, there were just the two of them, he, the human survivor, and the cyborg that saved his life… Below them, the hunt had started.

#FiveSentenceFiction: Alone

Alone The place should be familiar, but without him, it is as strange as her solitude. She looks at the rugged landscape, the desolate ruins, and the massive tower, the alien sentinel. Alone, she would now face the Enemy, in her hands his swords, in her heart his courage, and her eternal love for him. How is it, she thought, that I am immortal and he was not? And she knows the answer: he was human, and she no longer is.

Daily Prompt: About Page of the Future

Write the About page for your blog in 10 years.

François Maréchal; 1861 - 1945  It was Day&Art&François Maréchal  on my blog

Source: Vasily

As arguably one of the last (literate) blogger still to use screen and keypad to amuse my observers through those non-sensical posts, I admit:

  1. To being an undesirable alien
  2. To having started this blog – as it was then named – some twelve years ago, hence well before enlightenment
  3.  To (occasionally) enjoying pictures of nature…
  4. To being an (old-fashioned) socialist!

Prometheus

Doctor Shaw

Prometheus In space, with the bodiless android as your sole companion, aboard the immense ship: what are you thinking Doctor Shaw? Do you dream in your sarcophagi? You trust that machine, that evil machine. Yet it killed your friend, infected him with the deadly virus. But now, does it matter? Your aim is the Engineers’ world – or what is left of it. What do you hope to find there? Answers to your questions? A clue as to why they turn against their children, against mankind?

And what if the story was completely different, a fabrication, smoke and mirrors? Why, are you saying, why should it be so? It maybe that their goal was to prevent mankind to awake, to hinder creation – or evolution – depending on your perspective, to eliminate a deadly competitor. The “good” Engineers may have been evil all the time. And those pictures across the ancient world, a trap, a bait to kill us off after all, if ever we survived their poison. Something got at them for sure. And that thing is alive. In fact, for a while, it was alive in your belly, doctor Shaw. Remember?

So, you can’t change your mind now. The android has programmed the flight, your journey. Of course, your grandchild is still there, surely, on that piece of rock, near the dome. The beautiful Alien, who was born from your baby and the monster, the last surviving Engineer. Wait, is it behind you, or with you, there, on that silent ship? And then, you’re no longer alone: that baby is growing near you…