Day 7: The Rocket Ship

Write about a rocket ship on its way to the moon or a distant galaxy far, far, away.

Continuation of The Vessel

Man, space was boring. I mean, don't get me wrong. The first couple of weeks was so cool. The ship was equipped to survive hundreds of years in space and it's super super fast. So we got through our galaxy and into the next within days versus years.

But unless you're an astrononerd, the gases and celestial bodies and multitudes of suns get boring after awhile. We don't even get to visit any of these planets. Well, "The Scribe" doesn't get to anyway. I just get to hear the explorers tell their stories while I type it all down. And let me tell you, none of them are natural storytellers.

So I took to watching the other people on the ship. Let's just say, it doesn't matter where you go in the universe, people are infinitely more bizarre and interesting.

Take Kyla in room 12. She's apparently sleeping with Barb in room 4, who is married to JJ. I don't know how many people know they're involved in an affair but I stumbled upon it a couple days ago when I was hiding in an undisclosed location from ANNA! 

Anna's really taken to trying to "show me the ropes." And I'd rather hang her with them.

Anyway.

There's Mark and Marvin, a set of insanely creepy twin engineers who spend most of their time below decks "fixing stuff" but I suspect they're actually watching us women on the cameras. They know entirely too much about Maritza's dietary habits.

One of the explorers, Bobby, has intense paranoia. After we left our galaxy, we sent explorers down to SSX-223 (Essex in my head), a world filled with ice mountains and not much else. At  some point while they were down there, Bobby got it into his head that they were being stalked by an invisible presence.

Yep. You read that correctly.

His paranoia has gotten so intense that the commander made him sit out the last exploration. Now he just wanders the dimly-lit hallways trying to get the rest of us to talk to him about whatever's allegedly following us.

I'll admit...sometimes when I'm sleeping, I wake up abruptly and I get this odd feeling that someone just left the room. And it's a tiny room, so not much place for an invisible creep to hide.

Or maybe it's just one of the twins?

Who the hell knows? All I know is, I'm BORED. There's only so many ways to describe deep, black space. 

Maybe I should butter Anna or the commander up so they'll let me get down to one of the planets. Ya girl has high hopes.

---

“Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”

Day 3: The Vessel

Write about a ship or other vehicle that can take you somewhere different from where you are now.

This ship was made of DWARF! STAR! ALLOY! (I think?) And it's taking me to the unknown promised land of unexplored galaxies.

You heard me. Ya girl's going into outer space. Even though it scares the living shit out of me. 

Space scares you?, you might be thinking, in a rather smug tone.

Um, yes. It's a vast nothingness filled with specks of...somethingness. It's terrifying. We all are scared of the unknown to some degree, no? 

But no matter! I'm going. This ship looks sturdy enough to carry me, my luggage and my ego. I'm ready to explore the Great Beyond.

After I've loaded my entire life onto this ship, I noticed that everyone else around me in the main hull looked like actual adults with real jobs.

Not that I'm not an adult with a real job. Writers are people too, Janet!

Anyway, these people looked like scientists and engineers and doctors and I'm basing this purely on the fact that they're wearing glasses and unflattering, tan-colored clothes. I don't judge.

I walk up to the nearest beige person and tap them on the shoulder. She smiles brightly at me.

"Hi!" 

"Uh, hey? What's going on? What's your name?" I ask, taken aback by her enthusiasm.

"My name's Anna and I'm one of the pilots. Aren't you the scribe?" She answers, tilting her head slightly.

I cough a little to cover up my chuckle. "Um, yes. I am the...scribe. They assigned me to document each day of this trip. The first of its kind! Super exciting stuff..." I trailed off, mildly. I have a slight tendency to ramble. I'm working on it.

Anna nodded, still smiling like her life depended on it. "Well, why don't I show you around? Give you a little tour of the ship?" I nodded and she called out to several of the other taupe people. "I'm going to take the scribe for a little tour, if you guys want to join!"

I frowned a little. "Oh! You can just call me Vanessa."

She blinked at me and then turned around and walked off. The others started following her, chatting in some form of English that could only be described as Nerd.

"Ohhhhh kay." I quickly caught up to them as she was showing off the kitchen and dining areas.

They were ooh-ing and ahh-ing over some state-of-the-art metallic thing. I tried to get into it but honestly this kind of stuff bores me. So I wandered off down the hall on my own tour.

This ship was so massive there were actually ELEVATORS to go up to the next level. Look at me exploring! I found the dorms. I hope my roommate isn't weird, but judging by the dorks downstairs, I doubt I'd luck out in that department.

I stepped into one of the rooms. Everything was in shades of gray and white with wide windows that overlooked the large patch of desert where we were currently docked. I tried to imagine the view once we actually got up there.

I shivered. That big, black nothingness scared me. But we should do something that scares every now and then right? That's what all those self-help books say. I looked around the cold, gray room and then back to the window. 

I can do this. I'm the scribe, dammit. My job is important. I have to document everything. Even if it terrifies me. 

But I'll be damned if they make me wear khakis.

“Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”