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:
- Imagine your spaceship is failing and you are plummeting towards Mars.
- You're now on Mars, describe what it looks like.
- 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:
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.