2015 -- 7.2 (Spring) Fiction

Space Aloner

by ThatSynGirl

This is Moore.

I’m one of the pilots from the spacecraft that went rogue.

It’s lost all contact with Earth.

This is just a journal entry. Just some thoughts. No one to talk to.

May as well talk to a camera.

It’s quiet up here.

The most solitary silence that you will never know.

You’ve heard the saying “silence is loud,” yeah?


It’s excruciating. And it’s heavy.

It can cause claustrophobia in even the most iron-minded individual.

It’s just me up here.

The other guy is still frozen. He’s as good as being a corpse.

He doesn’t supply much conversation.


I’m alone.


I’d be grateful if he woke up, but that could be well after I’ve perished.

Our cryogenic freezing tubes were set for a millennia in the future.

But, our ship must have been knocked, because we’ve lost contact with earth…and our displays are all flashing incoherent data.

Nothing about the year.

Nothing about what happened to us.

Nothing about our fate.

I question my sanity by the second.

I remain hopeful that I’m sane….because I’ve heard if one were truly insane…they wouldn’t even question it.

So there’s my silver lining on that.

And I really…I really hate this window.

It’s a big, dark, ominous hole.

It gives me sight directly into the heart of the vast, deep and desolate space that is now my captor and home.

I don’t want to see that.

But this ship is small…and the window is looming. Large and imposing.

It encompasses one entire wall of this cabin.

Try to ignore it.

But you can’t help but see it.

I see it.


I see nothing but the darkest darkness, speckled with dots of light.

Cold, unwelcoming, vacuum.

The feeling of hopelessness weighs heavy on heart as I peer out this taunting window.

Hope all but vanished.

The loneliness absolute and ever present.

I am lost in the ever expanding, yet infinitely confining space which we call our universe.


There once was a we. But now, there is just me.

And him. Kind of.

Those people. Those creatures whom I once thought so ill of, and wanted nothing but to be away from…

I now yearn for their contact.

Solitude can do strange things to my kind.


We overcame all other species, dominating with intelligence, and yet…we are one of the weakest.

The most flexible and changeable.



We can be twisted to do funny things.

Jeff keeps laughing at me and he won’t tell me why.

I don’t know if he speaks English.

He’s stuck here, too. But he can leave when he wants.

I saw him one day…in a corner. In a shadow.

I heard him laughing, and I saw him.

All he does is laugh.

It makes me insane.

But I’m not.

Sometimes I wish he’d just go away for good, but other times I’m grateful for his company.

I tell him all my thoughts.

He doesn’t talk. He just sits there.

He doesn’t eat, which saves me supplies.

The ship was stocked for four years.

If I stretch it, it could go maybe five.

That’s before the other guy wakes up.

Shut UP, Jeff.

Jeff was snickering behind my back the other day.

I saw him over by my comrade.

I bet he isn’t even frozen. I think him and Jeff talk about me… I hear them whispering sometimes, but when I look, Jeff’s gone and my shipmate pretends he’s asleep.

That bastard is a LIAR!

I don’t know what he wants, or why he’s plotting behind my back, but I’m not gonna sit here and the laughing stalk for these two.

There’s an emergency axe in the storage container…

I’ll see who’s laughing at who when I bust him out of his tube.

Let’s see who’s laughing then.



But I’m not crazy. I’m not.

I’m NOT.



Bio: In my day to day life, I am known by Nikki. But in the realm of my creative works, I’m Syn. I don’t waste time telling people who I am; people don’t listen. I show people who I am. And just like any good work of art, people will form their own opinions of you, regardless of what you tell them or show them. And that’s why I leave that up to the individual.