Where strange fact and stranger fiction collide
. I haven’t done much fiction her recently, mainly because I have been working on larger scale projects, but that changes today.
I wrote this for the HP Lovecraft Film Festival Micro Fiction contest but did not submnit it. Not because wasn’t happy with it but I thought it wasn;t right for that venue. I will say it is based on a movie about a certain British scientist and rocketeer whose story was based on Lovecraft. That and a Davide Bowie song.
Anyways, hope you like it.
The Return of the Argos
By David Heath
Word Count: 460
Major Jason Thompson was looking at the planet Earth for the first time in over two years. He was the last surviving crewmember of The Argos. The others were lost when the wormhole they were researching opened immersing the ship with a strange radioactive signal. He alone survived because he was in the highly shielded engine room’s reactor. The broadcast had instantly atomized his crewmates as well as rendering all communications useless.
Against all odds he had piloted his damaged vessel from beyond Pluto to the planet of his origin. He knew that upon his arrival the press would ask him what he liked the most about being back on the Earth. He would give them the safe answer of, “Being able to see his wife and child.” The truth was he had been in space for so long, he wasn’t sure anymore if the image he conjured in his mind of them was what they really looked like. A more honest answer would be that he was glad that he no longer had to eat processed paste for meals.
He could see the silhouette of the rescue ship blocking out the rays of the sun, coming closer. It began docking procedures alongside the Argos. Thompson rushed to airlocks, his inability to get to get the com sensors to work had meant he hadn’t seen another human in more than two years.
The metal doors of the airlock slid open and two space suited figures step in. He’s not able to see their faces because of their helmets have the reflective visors closed. When they take off their helmets Thompson is filled with dread. Some hideous alien must have killed those who were sent to rescue him and are now wearing their uniforms like some type of trophy. He lunges at them and the monstrous duo shriek and flee to the other side of the airlock.
The beings appearance is horrifying. Their skin a sickly pink color, deep set sickly eyes, with ugly fur on the crown of their heads. Thompson lifts one of the helmets with his three taloned fingers. Raising it to his head he sees his own handsome face, greyish-green with three bulbous eyes, spectacular pus draining cysts dot his countenance.
Then he remembers that before the worm whole he looked like those pitiful creatures. They were the true beings of Earth. Once Thompson had been like them, but now he was a god amongst the animals in the fields.
He no longer cared one bit about his wife and child, they are just pathetic Earth beings. With a tug he pulled off the airlock door, and thought, at least these humans would be good for one thing, he wouldn’t have to eat processed paste tonight.