Tuesday, January 29, 2013


The Far Away
The radio remained stubbornly silent. Only brief moments of static noise seemed to threaten the eerie quietness.
“Move the antenna,” insisted Mary for the third time.
“I have done that already, a million times. It’s no use. The radio is dead.”
“It was working before. We need to find a higher place, we need to…”
But she was interrupted by Peter, annoyed and impatient.
“Mary, this is not the radio. The radio is dead. We have to find out what is making this noise or we are finished. Do you understand that? We are finished. Everyone is probably dead already. It’s the end of the world, I tell you.”
“I hate to break it to you, Peter, but it’s not the end of the world if there are at least two of us.”
Mary’s usual pragmatism seemed a bit too excessive for the dramatic situation they were in.
Isolated in a desolate refugees’ camp, they had struggled to survive there for a few months.
The perimeter was now closed and protected. When they arrived, the camp was empty, which made Peter prophesize a dreadful end for both of them. Mary dismissed his fears and went on to gather all the food and any useful objects she could find.
“We would’ve seen them, if they were around.”
“Mary, just shut up, ok. For a minute, could you please just shut up and let me think?”
She sulked and walked away, hiding in the shrubbery behind the main building where she stayed for part of the afternoon while Peter rummaged through boxes stored in the barn looking for something.
A piercing scream prompted Mary to run towards Peter. He was on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth, his eyes rolled back.
“I told you. We are dead…”
When Mary looked up, a miniature alien drone shot a tiny needle at her neck. She felt weak
The drone buzzed. It sounded like static.

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