A Little Tarnished

"It's just not in terribly good condition I'm afraid." Thin bony fingers held the object lightly between taught-skinned hands.

"I'm sure you've seen worse. It just needs a little polish." Erin smiled, an  act that belied his fear.

"Hm, well. A little late for that, isn't it?" The shopkeep frowned back.  He placed the object on his dark wood counter. It rested with a heaviness uncharacteristic of its size.

"Not from what I hear."

The shopkeep looked up sharply. An eyebrow raised.

"Then you have heard wrong, my friend. It is past time you parted with this. I don't know what you want me to give you for it."

Panic was on the verge of setting in, but that eyebrow had given Erin a ray of hope. He turned slightly, and started running his eyes over the various curios in the shop. Bizzare, antique, and... painful to the mind, each of them. But Erin let it wash over him, for effect.

"Have I though? I know it's not really unique, and a little... tarnished, as you said. But I also happen to know it's just the kind of thing you like." He let his eyes drift back to the shopkeep. The skinny, darkly dressed man was stonefaced. "And while you may not have the time or inclination to patch it up yourself, I think, if you let me, I can do it for you."

"If you think you can sell it to me for more time, I'm afraid you're mistaking me for someone else." The shopkeep rolled his eyes.

"Oh no no no, I apologize. I don't want to pay you for it..." Erin let his hands drift over a pair of dice that were sitting on a shelf, before folding his arms before his chest. "I want to play you for it."

The shopkeep's appearance was stoney for a moment more. But then it cracked, and a smile shone through like the grin of a skull.

The Ranger's Path

"Why do you seek to walk the Ranger's path?" Boomed the dark cloak in the shadows of the trees.

"I love the forest." The little voice responded, from somewhere in the underbrush.

"Then you should go find a druid." The booming cloak laughed. "You will find no love for the forest in the heart of a true Ranger. Only hate tempered by respect, little one."

"But you spend so much time in her trees, Ranger. How can you not love her bounty and her beauty?" The little voice echoed lightly through the trees, making it hard to pin down.

"Love is blind, little mouse. Love is a beautiful thing in the comfort of a home, and a terrible weakness in the dark of the trees." An arm sneaked out of the dark cloak, and rested on a tree branch. "Give in to love in the forest, and she will consume you."

"I think you have grown bitter, old Ranger.  You need an apprentice, to regrow your heart." The little voice was not far now.

She was skilled, thought the Ranger. A smile cracked his lips, an expression he had not worn truly in a long time. Perhaps she was not so wrong. About needing an apprentice, at least.

He turned slowly, still holding the branch. It was covered in beautiful yellow blooms, and as he slowly moved it with him, they shook and a fine powder fell to the forest floor.

"Perhaps you need a master to harden yours, little mouse." He called out to the voice.

As he finished turning, he saw her. Standing stock still, short bow drawn aiming at his skull, a face flush with victory. He slowly brought the branch protectively between her bow and his face.

"A friend to the trees needs no master like you, Old Ranger." She smirked at him.

"The trees are no more your ally than mine, little mouse." And he blew hard on the beautiful flower, and the dust that came out was as stars that filled the young one's mind as she passed out.

Hurt

I hurt myself today.

It wasn't easy. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Logistically, too. As well as... otherwise.

It took every favour I've ever earned, and some I haven't yet. I had to bribe, and coax, and threaten every single person I knew. But I did it.

And when I watched her smile and step on that ship, on that journey to a better life... Away from this, away from me... Knowing I could never follow her...

It hurt.

But here isn't there. Here life is cheap.

And It's not hard to make the hurting stop.

In That Moment

Belloch sat on the floor, back pressed up against the cold wall behind him where he had slumped. The pistol was still hot in his hands, a faint trail of cordite wisping towards the ceiling, though that was disappearing now too.

The shaking in his hands wasn't.

"Maybe the next one will be more cooperative, huh?" Kereth said, almost jovially, as he untied the body from the chair where it had fallen.

"Yes." Belloch responded robotically. He looked down at his hands. They hurt. He tried to relax them, but they wouldn't obey.

Kereth hefted the body easily onto his shoulder, and headed out the door. He turned back to speak once more.

"Better get ready, we got lots of interviews to do. On your feet, soldier." The colossal man smiled, and backed out the door.

"Yes."

Belloch was alone in the room, save for the gun. The gun was still clutched in his hand, clasped like he would never be able to let go. He stared at it dumbly.

He lifted his arm, and dropped the pistol beside him. It clattered loudly on the ceramic floor.

But even though it sat beside him, and he could see it, it was still in his hands.

It was forever in his hands, in that moment.

Always.

Yeh

"If I just lay here, for the rest of my life, would that be so terrible?"

"You'd get et."

"Yeh."

Bren was sitting in the meadow, chewing on an apple. He looked down at Valla, laying in the grass nearby.

"You'd die." He prompted.

"Yeh. But I'd get to lay here for the rest of my life."

"Mm." He mumbled around a piece of apple.

Silence hung in the warm summer air. The sun played briefly behind a thin cloud, dimming only slightly. Giving the whole world a pleasant swelling of brightness as it returned.

Bren finished his apple.

He stared at the core intently.

"I'd be sad." He said at last.

One of Valla's eyes slowly worked its way open, to look at Bren.

"What?"

"If you got et. I'd be sad." He casually tossed his apple core into the tree line. He leaned back, resting on his palms.

"Oh."

"Yeh."

The warm summer silence returned.

Bren lay back in the grass. It was nice. He closed his eyes, and felt the sun playing across his face pleasantly.

He felt Valla's hand snake into his. It was... soft.

"Maybe not the rest of my life then. Just for a bit, huh Bren?"

Bren's stomach felt like a hive of bees dancing around a flower. He smiled, keeping his eyes closed.

"Yeh."

Counting Stars

"Back again Lucius?"

"Back again." Lucius smiled, and started unfolding his chair. The night air blew chilly through his shirt, so he dug a blanket out of his small pack.

She leaned against a parapet on the keep roof. She shook her head at him as he prepared for his nightly ritual. "What are you doing, Lucius?"

"Same thing as every night. Counting." He smiled pleasantly at her question.

"You can't keep this up forever. You have to move on eventually."

"Eventually, perhaps. But not tonight." He sat in his chair, and reclined it back. His face was pointed straight up at the massive collection of stars swirling overhead. He pulled his blanket up to keep out the chill.

"She's not coming back, Lucius."

His head bobbed slightly as he began counting, one, two, three...

She wasn't sure he'd heard her. She was about to clear her throat when he spoke.

"Maybe not." His head continued to bob as he spoke, not ceasing to count.

"So why do you keep torturing yourself like this?" She stood from the wall, and stepped closer to him.

"When she left," He said, still not breaking his count, "She told me she would return when all the stars in the sky had been counted."

"I know, Lucius, we all know... but you must realize that she meant... that that doesn't mean..."

For the first time he stopped counting, and moved his gaze to her face. His expression was warm, a loving look of pity. Pity that she didn't understand.

"I know what she meant, little one..." And his smile wavered for only an instant. "And there is nothing I can do to change what she did." He took a deep, long breath.  "But we all remember what she said, and that... that is something I can do. Or at least try." He grinned a mischievous  grin, and turned his gaze back to the stars. His head bobbed as he returned to counting.

She watched him count for a while before she left, her heart broken by his dedication to the departed. She shed the tears for him, because she knew that he would not.

Tap Tap Tap

"Uhhh... captain? I... Can I... Your help please? Can I get your help here please?" Came the call over the radio. Wehyland's voice, and the intercom listed it as coming from the ventral airlock.

"Roger, I'm on my way." The captain clicked off her radio, and started moving weightlessly through the ship.  Some sections had artificial gravity, but not all. Decisions had to be made on the first long-distance crewed space mission. And gravity isn't always cheap.

It didn't take long for her to make it to the airlock.

"What is it Wehyland?" She asked before she rounded the corner. When she did, she saw his face white as a sheet. Staring out the small viewing port. He turned to look at her, and swallowed.

She tilted her head, and floated over. That's when she heard it. the faint tap. Tap. Tap.

Rhythmic, quiet. She furrowed her brow. Wehyland didn't speak, just floated slowly back, to let her look in the airlock.

She moved up, and stared inside.

There was a spacesuit in the airlock. And someone inside, banging on the thick airlock door with soft, suited fists. Tap. Tap. Tap.

She could see the face in the helmet. It was screaming. Begging to be let in.

She looked to Wehyland. He was terrified. She looked back into the airlock, and felt the cold rush of fear fill her veins.

The man in the spacesuit was crying now, as he pounded on the door.

The man in the spacesuit, was Wehyland.

The Big Picture

I used to say I want to die before I get old.

And here I am, walking through the desert, bullet in my belly, dragging myself to... anything.

Shows what I knew then, huh?

To be fair, when I said that I didn't have Her. She didn't exist in my world yet. And She definitely changed everything.

I look down at my hand, holding the blood in me. It's not doing a great job. Thanks a lot hand. Some good you are. I look back, there's a pretty definite trail of drops everywhere I've been.

At least I can tell I'm not walking in circles. Small victories.

I drop to my knees, exhaustion fighting to take control. The world is sand and heat and pain. I can see a cow skull in the distance. Where's the rest of the cow?

I dig my fingers into the wound, and the piercing pain brings me back into focus.

I still have to stand up. Five more minutes.

If I die out here, what does that matter, really... in the big picture. Does it really change anything?

I stare at the cow skull. Maybe my body will wind up with the cow's. Maybe our skulls will be buddies. Skullbuddies.

My free hand digs around in my pocket, and I pull out my wallet. Inside is a picture of Her. I've seen it a thousand, a million times. But I let it pierce into my head. Let it wedge itself in my mind like never before. It's not about the big picture. It's about the little picture. It's about Her.

And I rise to my feet.

Sorry, skullbuddy. Maybe next time.

Big Day

I straighten my tie, a simple red unpatterned affair. It pops nicely with my outfit, the rest of which is a fairly traditional black and white affair. Ready for work. A big day.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks.

"No." I reply, sounding only a little defeated. I'm tired of this conversation. Tired of everything. "I can't say that I'm sure. But you've convinced me. I don't really see any other options."

"I just want you to be sharp out there. Doubts are going to make you look bad."

I smirk. Not really something I'm concerned about. But he knows that. He knows everything about me. That's how he was able to convince me. I never really stood a chance.

"I'll be sure. Confidence is key, right?" I turn to him and smile. He smiles back.

"You got it. Hey," He shakes my hand by the door. It's a firm, but not hard handshake. A gesture of support, excellently crafted. He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "You'll do great. I believe in you. Go get 'em."

He puts the gun in my hand, and the demon fades out of my sight.

I breathe deeply. I'm sure.

Big day.

To Dream

It's fun to dream.

Sometimes I dream that the sunlight that passes through the filtered glass on the ship, that washes over me in the mandated  light-exposure sessions is flowing over me in a beautiful meadow. That I'm laying in the grass in some secluded glen, while the sun passes behind dappling clouds, warming my skin and gracing me with a pure relaxation unlike anything I've ever felt.

But eventually I remember that I've never seen a meadow, or even grass. That my parents never saw a plant, and neither will my children. That in this dark space, between systems, the sol chamber is the closest we will ever come to that dream.

Some days it is enough. Some days it is a great sadness.

Some days I curse my ancestors who inflicted this life on me with their decision, and wish I could go back in time and tell them that any life is better than this sterile wasteland between the stars. No matter what they left behind, it can't be worse than this monotonous existence of artificial nothingness.

Some days I imagine what worlds my children's children's children will walk upon, the first humans to set foot on new worlds outside our home star. I dream what wonders they will see for the first time, and how the sunlight of that distant star will feel on their skin. Something I will never know.

But it is fun to dream.