An Ending
Just a quick little thing I wrote. Hopefully someone enjoys it!
It is an incredible spaceship.
Darkened windows sit embedded in the gleaming outer hull, which sparkles in the glow of a nebula.
An enormous hyperspace drive hums dangerously behind the body of the craft, ready to either propel at brilliant speeds, or explode at the slightest disturbance.
Inside the ship is an infinitely complicated array of dials, levers, pedals, buttons, pulleys, switches, keys, displays and throttles-all directed towards, and in easy reach of the captain's chair.
The cockpit smells of oiled machinery, of intense concentration, and sweat.
From this command center, the spaceship had navigated through countless asteroid fields, escaped more than fifteen supernovas, and overcome the most insurmountable of odds, time and time again.
Only one man can handle the million-ton construction of reinforced ceramite and titanium.
Only one man can keep the Reserve-Plasma-Confinement-Sequencer running at full strength without sending the spacecraft hurtling into a million parallel dimensions at once.
But what good is eight Intergalactic-Union medals for bravery? What good is ten years specialist training in space-fighter tactics when they want to tear down the shed?
They say that it's too dangerous.
They tell me about the wasp nest in the water tank, and the broken window. The ride-on mower inside is falling apart, and if I cut myself, I could get rust poisoning.
They're going to tear it down. They want get rid of the bamboo too, and plant some more grass.
Then we'll be able to move the barbecue back and we'll have some more lawn space.
It'll be great.
No, it won't.
They're taking my ship-my incredible spaceship-and replacing it with grass...
Nothing...
A black hole.
Darkened windows sit embedded in the gleaming outer hull, which sparkles in the glow of a nebula.
An enormous hyperspace drive hums dangerously behind the body of the craft, ready to either propel at brilliant speeds, or explode at the slightest disturbance.
Inside the ship is an infinitely complicated array of dials, levers, pedals, buttons, pulleys, switches, keys, displays and throttles-all directed towards, and in easy reach of the captain's chair.
The cockpit smells of oiled machinery, of intense concentration, and sweat.
From this command center, the spaceship had navigated through countless asteroid fields, escaped more than fifteen supernovas, and overcome the most insurmountable of odds, time and time again.
Only one man can handle the million-ton construction of reinforced ceramite and titanium.
Only one man can keep the Reserve-Plasma-Confinement-Sequencer running at full strength without sending the spacecraft hurtling into a million parallel dimensions at once.
But what good is eight Intergalactic-Union medals for bravery? What good is ten years specialist training in space-fighter tactics when they want to tear down the shed?
They say that it's too dangerous.
They tell me about the wasp nest in the water tank, and the broken window. The ride-on mower inside is falling apart, and if I cut myself, I could get rust poisoning.
They're going to tear it down. They want get rid of the bamboo too, and plant some more grass.
Then we'll be able to move the barbecue back and we'll have some more lawn space.
It'll be great.
No, it won't.
They're taking my ship-my incredible spaceship-and replacing it with grass...
Nothing...
A black hole.
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