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Eighth Day
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TITLE (EDIT)
Eighth Day
DESCRIPTION
-
[1,423 words]
AUTHOR
Erasmus Flynt
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
-
[February 2004]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (14)
Cogito, Ergo Sum (Short Stories) - [708 words]
Dormant Musings (Poetry) - [106 words]
Hell Is A Personal Place (Short Stories) Each of us has a personal idea of Hell! [1,043 words]
In Capable Hands (Short Stories) Or are we? [212 words]
In Transit (Poetry) A soul makes an unexpected pitstop along its journey. [232 words]
Madrugada (Poetry) - [73 words]
My Eternal Triangle (Short Stories) - [710 words]
Null And Void (Poetry) - [61 words]
Retribution And New Beginnings (Short Stories) Secrets will out. [8,764 words] [Thriller]
Self Incarceration (Poetry) - [141 words]
Still She Lies (Poetry) - [92 words]
Take Heart (Poetry) - [108 words]
Touch Me No More (Poetry) - [114 words] [Relationships]
Unwanted Company (Short Stories) - [826 words]
Eighth Day
Erasmus Flynt

Solitude.

We all yearn for it, yet seldom get it. A chance to relax and recharge the energy levels in a modern hectic world. A time for daydreams and dreamless sleep. I suppose in some ways I was lucky; I found myself with solitude in abundance but on the downside, I had nothing to daydream about and my sleep was interrupted by fear and my own impending death.

My name is Adam. Ironic isnít it. Adam; the first man said to have lived, and by a quirk of fate, the last one also.

Of the two of us, I think he had the best deal. There at the very beginning and with everything to look forward to. The whole world new and freshly created, a paradise without compare to experience and, as if that was not enough, he was also blessed with direct contact with God.

Me? There at the very end with nothing to look forward to. The whole world destroyed, yet spinning regardless under the dark blanket of a nuclear winter, like a cadaver with a heart that wonít stop. Paradise lost, and not a chance of a word in Gods ear. After all, why should He listen?

It was a time of reflection of hours, days, weeks spent alone in the silence of space. The sole occupier of the small space station and the only human being in all the vastness of the galaxies. It was an awesome and overwhelming emotion knowing that I was the only man left existing in the whole universe. The epitome of solitude.

I had nothing to do; nothing to live for. I just sat for hour upon hour, watching the flashing lights on the console and listening to the silence of space. I calculated the length of time before the oxygen and provisions ran out and it was a depressingly long time. Months in fact. Months that I would have to spend orbiting the radioactive and uninhabitable planet that had been my home.

I cried regularly. Not just for myself, but for everybody and everything that I had known. I cried for mans stupidity. But they were tears that were wasted. It had only ever been a matter of time before man destroyed himself and everything around him. I supposed that in some ways it was better for it to end the way it did. A quick death and mass annihilation rather than by the lingering malignant cancer of the world that man had become. Oceans polluted, global warming, rain forests destroyed, genetically modified crops that turned good wholesome food into something that Mary Shelley could never have dreamed up and worst of all, genetically modified man.

What a mess.

As the months passed, I grew physically weak. My muscles showed signs of wastage due to zero gravity and my lack of motivation where exercise was concerned. In fact, my motivation was pretty much nil with regards to everything. I hardly ate and I started not to bother even thinking much. I merely waited for death in a personal depression so deep that I knew that I couldnít recover from it. I spent hours, days just staring out into space. I had long ceased questioning the meaning of life and Gods almighty plan. Maybe He had never really had one. Maybe we were just some sort of cruel experiment to see how far we would actually go. Well, if thatís the case, I remember thinking, now He knows.

I suppose in retrospect, that I coped quite well with the situation that I found myself in, though the silence was a killer. I got spooked really easily. The least little noise or vibration would frighten the crap out of me. I got paranoid, and convinced myself that I was being watched. I could almost feel eyes boring into the back of my head and the small hairs on the back of my neck would stand to attention as I was frozen to the spot. Sometimes I would steel myself and quickly look behind me, but of course there was nothing or no-one there. I would chastise myself for my stupidity, but at the time those eyes were very real.

I grew weaker as the time dragged on, and eventually spent all my time sat in my seat, mindless and staring without blinking. The noises that had previously got to me, no longer had any effect. To all intents and purposes, I might just as well have been dead. I remembered wanting to be dead. I craved it, the escape and an end to the misery that had become my existence. Yet still I survived, orbiting the earth like some mechanical moth circling a light bulb.

I began talking to myself, more at first to break the unearthly silence than for any other reason. Pretending to myself that I wasnít alone. Then the hallucinations started, spasmodically at first but it didnít take too long for them to become a regular sight. I saw other spaceships that I knew were not really there, shadows turned into figures then turned back into shadows again. I began to lose my grip on reality, and so I became constantly alert and watchful, just in case. I suffered from lack of sleep, exhaustion, malnutrition and dehydration. I had difficulty breathing though the oxygen levels hadnít dropped to danger level.

I remember sitting there, watching through the window for any signs of anything when the eyes started boring into my neck again. My hackles were up and my body shivered with a kind of vibration that was more real than imaginary. I tried to ignore them but they would not let me. I wanted to look around but I couldnít. I was paralysed, rooted to my seat. There was a smell, a strong and not too pleasant smell. Somewhere in the far reaches of my mind, I remembered it from my childhood. It brought fear along with it. I searched frantically through my addled brain to place the aroma, and the childhood nightmares came flooding back to me.

Being taken against my will, sucked into a light that put weird noises and thoughts into my head. Prodded and tested, my discomfort and pain disregarded. Cruel dreams that came from where? By this time, every hair on my body was on alert and the fear that crept over me was indescribable. I would have vomited if there had been anything in my stomach to throw up. Still I couldnít move and the reality that there was actually someone - something - there watching me, began to take shape.

I remember screaming something high pitched and incoherent as the hand gripped my shoulder, and the last thing I saw before passing out, was the dark reflection of the thing behind me in the window. My nightmares in physical form.

***

I am trying to write this as quickly as I can because my memory seems to be fading rapidly. Names and places are becoming a blur. It is as though I have gone through some sort of brain cleansing that I no longer understand and I get confused when I try to remember things from the distant past. Though recent events do seem clearer at the moment. One good thing that has come out of this, is that I understand them now, and I fear them no longer. They saved me, and they brought me here, though I am still alone at the moment. I do not know where I am, but it is beautiful and peaceful, and I am recuperating. They have promised me company soon but I donít know when. Probably when I am completely well.

The physical pain has gone almost, thankfully. The pains in my chest were awful, and for some reason I must have needed an operation of some kind because I have a long scar on my chest where they had to remove a rib. But I donít care, because where thereís life thereís hope, and that is what inspires me now. Hope. For a new start in a new world, just like the biblical Adam. I wonder sometimes which planet he originated from, which planet his people destroyed, and if he were an astronaut too.

I have even got my old appetite back. God, those apples look so delicious, but I must resist them. I have been told they are not to be eaten so I will try to resist. I hope my companion, when she comes, has the same restraint as I do.

***

 

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"This story is very, very intersting. I'm not sure if I understand it completly, but i really enjoyed it. Your style is great, it relaxes me for some reason. You can e-mail me at this adress: [email protected] I'd really like to hear your thoughts, so please do e-mail me. Keep up the good work." -- Moses M. Constable.

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2004 Erasmus Flynt
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
May 2004
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2004
 

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