Darkworld

TerrorFirmer

This is the very beginning of a story I'm writing. I always say it, but this time, I'm determined to keep it going. I have more then this, but this is all I have thats final: The very opening. Comments very welcome...this is a very small piece of what is to come but I'm wondering what people think of it as a brief opening. I'm not so much aiming at outright horror as I am at general creepiness and dread - its about the sole survivor of a starship crash on an unknown world, all of whose friends died on impact. Let me know what you guys think...and what you think can be improved or adjusted. Thanks.




Our fuel tanks exploded and we crashed. When I came to there was nothing but blackness, indeed, the only thing that indicated I was still alive was the overpowering stench of fried wiring and burnt circuitry. Everyone else was dead, which I strangely found humourous, if you can imagine such a situation being remotely funny. I know I shouldn’t, but maybe I’m in shock. There’s not so much as a scratch on either my suit or body. The rest of the crew, well; not only are they dead, but they were literally pulverised on impact. I found human teeth scattered across the floor of the storage deck when I was looking for survivors, and apart from shreds of clothing and small chunks of gore, not a whole lot else.

The atmosphere is harsh outside. Breathable, but harsh. There’s a thick fog swirling around everything. We landed in some sort of shallow lake, on which either side is a dense forest. How large it is I can’t tell, while it seems small from where I’m standing, its possible the “lake” is actually a narrow river. It disappears into the fog on either end of the ship after a few meters. I had expected the emergency distress beacon to be destroyed after impact. Not only is it working, but the signal is strong and apart from a few light dents – which were probably already there - it seems to have survived the crash unscathed.

I wish someone else had survived alongside me. Well, of course I do, obviously it’s not as if I wished this fate upon the rest of the crew, but you know what I mean. It’s desolate and bleak. I haven’t even heard anything to suggest life of any type, let alone seen it. Well, except the trees, of course – but they aren’t really alive as such, are they?

I sit atop the ship for several hours. I’m stranded, lost, alone. Yet I still feel like I’m waiting for something. An inevitable rescue perhaps. The beacon is still going strong. I torment myself by wondering what would happen should it die on me. If I am to be totally honest with myself it probably makes little odds whether the beacon works or not. We were very far from the nearest shipping lanes. But as long as it works, it’s still something to hold onto.

This place never seems to get dark. I’ve been sitting here for a very long time now and there has been absolutely no climatic change. No sign of any life either. Hunger is starting to set in but I don’t want to go back into the ship. I can smell the nauseating charring within even out here. I won’t be rescued, I’m almost certain; but it’s hard to actually grasp that fact in my mind. I still sit here, expecting what I know isn’t going to happen.

I’m going to have to go back into the ship soon to look for supplies. I can’t stay here indefinitely, the last thing I need is the ship collasping under me. That said, the last thing I want is to go into the unknown. This ship is the only thing I know on this entire planet.

God, I wish there were someone else here with me.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here. The face on my watch is smashed. By my count several hours must have passed. The ship lurched ever so slightly a few minutes ago. So slight in fact, that if this place were not so quiet and motionless, I may not even have noticed it. But still, it’s a warning I need to pay heed to. I peer over the edge of the ship into the water. It could be acid for all I know; of course, it’s obviously not, but that’s not really the point. I don’t know anything about this planet. Fade managed to run some geographical scans of the planet done before we crashed, but I didn’t catch any of it.

The ship just lurched again, this time more severely then the last time. Enough to send the flashlight I had set down beside me sliding over the edge and spinning into the water. It floats, luckily, and it bobbed stationary in the water. Still, I didn’t particularly want to go in after it. I had to though. Inside the ship was far too dark to navigate without it.