Monday, 21 January 2013

Life on Mars

I started my Sci-Fi and Fantasy module last Thursday and the writing task we had to do involved crashing on Mars. There were three parts to it:

  1. Imagine your spaceship is failing and you are plummeting towards Mars.
  2. You're now on Mars, describe what it looks like.
  3. You find an object, what is it?
We were also given some pictures as inspiration.




We only had about ten minutes to do this task and this is what I came up with:

Mars

Sirens blaring. Red lights flashing. Sheer panic rising. The engines are destroyed. The meteors have hit. There’s nothing we can do now. I know I should be with my crew, but still, I run wildly to the escape pods. There were three. Two have been damaged. There’s only one left. I punch the button and barely wait for the door to open before leaping inside. My fingers, slick with sweat, fumble at the controls…

The impact tears through my body. I scramble for the door and heave it open. My oxygen mask is cloudy from my panicked breathing. For a second I am completely blind. I force myself to calm down. The screen of my mask clears. Eyes wide, I take in my new surroundings. Brilliant burnt orange sand stretches before me. Endlessly. The horizon is a dead straight line, with only a few bumps of rock to break the monotony. My crash has left a small dent in such a vast land. The atmosphere is a dull glow, neither day nor night. I see the end of the meteor shower. So far from here. The Titan is a flaming wreck across the sky. My stomach turns. I have to stop myself from being sick within my mask. Guilt overcomes me. Hopelessness follows. What I’ve done…I cannot undo. I raise my arm in a salute to my fallen comrades. I flick on my communicator. Static. Silence. I am truly alone now...

After walking for hours I finally see something other than rocks and craters. A small speck of bright light in the distance, unexpected in this bleak place. Another ship? A city? It is miles away, yet a small feeling of hope grows. I’ve been between fear, denial, and misery. I have been ignoring my oxygen levels since I crashed. I dread to think what is left. Could I run to this mysterious object? No. It would use up more oxygen that way. I must take it slow.
I’m exhausted by the time it is within reach. It is not a ship or city. The distance and atmosphere made the size difficult to judge. It is much smaller. And round. My heart slows as I approach it. My hope disappears entirely. The fear, denial, misery is back. It is the bloody oxygen mask of Axel. His head still inside.


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