Driving home from my sister's new home tonight I was suddenly seized by a story idea. This actually happens quite frequently. I will just be thinking and then some random characters will pop into my head and play out scenes from some unknown story. Usually these stories don't have ends or beginnings. They are just unanchored snippets that drift into my conciousness. But tonight the story came in a bit more complete. Maybe cause I had such a long drive.
I got home and immediately found myself trying to capture the scenes. I think I caught the essence of the idea. Although the imagery isn't quite there. The story centers around the last survivors of the human race. These astro-pioneers are all that remains when the Earth finally destructs (fuzzy on the details of how or why). I have at least a male and female lead. Not sure about the rest. Obviously this isn't fully developed but I am thinking about trying to turn it into a short story or maybe more. Read the very rough snippets below and tell me what you think!The air tasted stale. Every bit it's recycled self. He hadn't minded the stale taste. It served as a constant reminder that he was not in Kansas. That his life though full of boring and mundane tasks, was very unique. After all not everyone lived on the moon. Except with Earth gone "everyone" had become the moon base. So now everyone lived on the moon. No one lived on the Earth. A complete reversal from the reality of 50 years ago.
The staleness of the air began to cloy at his throat as he processed the fact that he would never taste fresh air again. For the rest of his life he would only know the stale taste of recycled air.
The stomach acid burned up her throat and this time she didn't even bother to try and stop it. She just hung her head over the toilet and let it come. To think that Mom had been worried about her! She had told her Mother that statistically speaking her mission on the moon was safer than staying on Earth. How that fact gnawed at her. Statistically speaking she now represented a 1/30 of the projected human population. The probability of survivors on the Earth was 10000000 to 1. She clung to math. Numbers had always had the ability to comfort and sooth her. They always told the truth. But right now she didn't want truth. She wanted so desperately to believe that even with a .0000065% chance her Mother and little brother had survived. That she was not orphaned from family, heritage, and planet. But numbers don't lie.
Anyone who paid attention to world politics knew that it was a revolutionary time. That the mankind was once again reshaping itself and it's boundaries. There were no indications that this "crisis" would be any different than all the others history had thrown at mankind. But this time the threats weren't empty. This time all the dooms day prophets were right and the clock struck midnight. I wonder if they are happy? Those creepy, dirty, people who stand on city corners and warn that the end is near. Did they laugh in exhalation as the atmosphere burned around them? Were they proud to be proven right?
The staleness of the air began to cloy at his throat as he processed the fact that he would never taste fresh air again. For the rest of his life he would only know the stale taste of recycled air.
The stomach acid burned up her throat and this time she didn't even bother to try and stop it. She just hung her head over the toilet and let it come. To think that Mom had been worried about her! She had told her Mother that statistically speaking her mission on the moon was safer than staying on Earth. How that fact gnawed at her. Statistically speaking she now represented a 1/30 of the projected human population. The probability of survivors on the Earth was 10000000 to 1. She clung to math. Numbers had always had the ability to comfort and sooth her. They always told the truth. But right now she didn't want truth. She wanted so desperately to believe that even with a .0000065% chance her Mother and little brother had survived. That she was not orphaned from family, heritage, and planet. But numbers don't lie.
Anyone who paid attention to world politics knew that it was a revolutionary time. That the mankind was once again reshaping itself and it's boundaries. There were no indications that this "crisis" would be any different than all the others history had thrown at mankind. But this time the threats weren't empty. This time all the dooms day prophets were right and the clock struck midnight. I wonder if they are happy? Those creepy, dirty, people who stand on city corners and warn that the end is near. Did they laugh in exhalation as the atmosphere burned around them? Were they proud to be proven right?
So thoughts.......
1 comment:
It is really good . . . . I want to hear more. Love it! What are the names of the characters?
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