Good morning all and I hope you are having a wonderful Tuesday morning. I actually had a very productive Monday and am hoping that today is more of the same. Well, at least with the work. I could live without the looming weather. I am willing to say that at this point the sky is even lurking. It wants to rain so badly, yet it just can’t make itself. The air is thick enough to drink yet the rain does not come. It is a very frustrating sky. But I am going to ignore it and get to work. Ready for the morning prompt? Good, Because I certainly am. So let’s go.
Could be interesting. There are several things to work with there. Lots of dramatic trauma to play with. Something to think about later on.
Tuesday, July 27th: The colors were spectacular.
The colors were spectacular. They rioted across the sky like fireworks. Reds and yellows dominated but the occasional blue flared in long streamers. As beautiful as it was, we all knew what the light display heralded and watched with solemn awe.
Around us the children frolicked, ohing and ahing as though it were a festival.
As I stood watching, silently, I wondered at the changes it would bring. High above use the ship was destroyed. Our escape pods were sent out to the planet below. It was first thought to be a precaution. Perhaps it was even viewed as a test. We weren’t anywhere near our final destination. We all knew we had time before arrival. It could have seemed to most like a practice drill.
I was one of the few who knew that our ship was taken far off course by events I couldn’t explain. I wasn’t a part of the command crew but had been interested in the inner workings. I was liked enough that in a time of quiet I was given a short tour of the inner workings. Several of the upper staff thought it amusing that I would want to tour their workspace.
There were whispers in the background, but I paid them no attention. After a time, I realized they weren’t due to me or my presence. Senior staff were pulled aside. While I never caught the reason for our course adjustment, I caught enough words before my tour abruptly ended to know we were nowhere near where we were supposed to be and that we were no longer flying in sync with the rest of the evacuation.
I was asked to keep anything I heard to myself as I was escorted out. Although I heard little I agreed. All around me faces that were warm and welcoming were now tight with worry. It twisted my guts inside but I kept my mouth shut.
That was a month ago. I didn’t know if we managed to get reasonably back on course or if we drifted further away from the other ships. I suspected this was not a drill when the ship’s evacuation began. Even I hadn’t expected the ship’s destruction.
As the explosions above slowed, I heard those around me trying to come to grips with events. Some listed the positives, our individual escape vessels were designed to be transformed into permanent habitats when we landed in our final destination so we had all we needed for survival with us, in theory. That thought calmed a lot of nerves. Others made comments about the rest of the ships noticing our absence and coming for us.