Written for Phillip Mann’s writing workshop. Au Contraire 2013

The first paragraph was provided as a prompt.


“This is my final report. Time: 2040 hours. I no longer have control of the ship. I am the last crew member alive. Now, we are sinking lower through the clouds.”

My croaking voice fails me. I lose myself to a bout of coughing. I haven’t the strength to cough, but my body demands it, and continues until I am on the verge of vomiting.

I let my hands fall into my lap. They’re splattered with blood from my lungs. Wiping them on my overalls, I turn my eyes back to the camera.

My voice is rasping and is almost inaudible above the whirr of the engines.

“72% of the passengers remain in quarantine. No new sickness has broken out amongst them. All dead have been laid in the cargo bay, except… I’m sorry, I’m not strong enough to move him…”

I’m sure they can’t hear me anymore; I cannot. My head drops back onto the head-rest. I look over at the only other occupied chair in the room. Jason’s body is limp. Tears flow across my face. I’m too weak to move now. All I can do is let the planetary guidance system take us home, and wait.


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