The Ship of One More
“In the event of a gravitational storm, please return to your seat and buckle your restraints as demonstrated by the hologram in front of you. In the case of decompression..”
I tuned out the flight attendant. I'd taken this trip many times recently as both a way to remember, and a way to forget. Once the attendant finished speaking, the lights dimmed and the cabin sunk into a collective sigh. I swiveled my head across the other seats. Everyone there wore the same expression of grief; the bottoms of their eyes distended by nights of lonely sleep, cheeks hollowed out by loss of hunger, and hair unbrushed because that would be just too much effort.
The Ship of One More. One more word, one more day, one more laugh. Just one more and that will be enough. At least, that's what I told myself; then I found myself reaching back into my savings to buy another trip. I looked back out into the emptiness watching the Earth shrink behind us until the seat belt light came on to prepare us for the slingshot around Jupiter.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (1 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
I think this story is going to haunt me. Maybe this slingshot is a hula hoop.
- #1242 Posted 7 years ago
- 5 out of 5
- Published 7 years ago.
- Story viewed 10 times and rated 1 times.
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