Through the Shroud

Happily, the day has begun with a hefty chunk of writing, of which a piece is shared below. 

A strange pulsating glow illuminated from behind the station for a split second, and for a moment Kurt questioned whether he’d imagined it or not. The single most daunting truth that he’d come to mistake for fact was their absolute aloneness, though that seeming truth ran counter to their very purpose in being here, on the edge of charted space.

Having drifted several hundred yards from the craft—further than he’d ever gone before—Kurt engaged the tiny thrusters on his elbow and spun himself around in a lazy arc. Not one easily frightened by the antics of others—when Susan performed the same stunts he didn’t think twice—it was his own actions that brought him the most grief.

He scanned the edges of the ship for signs of light again but saw nothing. He shivered, though not at the temperature for he was quite warm in his suite, but rather at the combination of their ever present predicament as well as the fleeting, though crazy, idea that there could actually be something else there—something else that he had just seen.

His zeal for contact, for discovery and adventure had years ago subsided into a tepid pool of cynicism. This was the reality that he’d found in replacement of the lifetime of dreams he’d aspired to: border patrol.

Space and time—they ended up being pretty similar. Both killing indiscriminately and extending into the infinite. And as Kurt looked left and right and up and down (though who’s to say which is which), he let the shackles of his own inability to comprehend the very essence of where he was—the infinite void—clamp down on his mind. His ears began to ring—a manifestation of the purest fear he’d found able to experience.

That was the ticket, though. A good old scare—there was no replacement. 

1,135 words written today; 63,710 since inception.