MicroHorror

The magnificent silver rocket descended on a column of fire and gently kissed the cratered plain of a rocky, windswept planet. Three astronauts emerged and took the first tentative steps on the stony soil to a nearby boulder field.

Crewman Stiles gazed at the lifeless landscape. “It doesn’t appear my services as biologist will be in demand. What desolation.”

Captain Adams nodded. “Reminds me of Mercury. Remember?”

Stiles nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead. “That sun is a beast. At least the air is good and we’re not confined in those damned suits. It’s odd, though; usually an oxygen-rich atmosphere goes hand in hand with vegetation.”

Adams shrugged. “We’ll leave that puzzle for the scientists back home. We only have half an hour on this unscheduled stop. Some bored geophysicist back home wants new rocks to look at.”

“Any rocks in particular?” asked crewman Jensen.

“One big one will do,” the captain replied, irritated their trip home was delayed and not in the mood to be overly generous to the pencil pushers back home. He pointed to a clutch of assorted boulders ranging from ten inches to two feet. “I like that little boulder right there.”

Jensen guessed the rock at two hundred pounds. “That thing? No way!”

“No, the medium-sized one with the blue banding.”

“It won’t fit in the container. I’ll grab one of the smaller ones.”

Adams shook his head and scratched thoughtfully behind an ear. “No. I want the blue one.”

“Any particular reason why?”

Adams shrugged. “It’s pretty.”

Jensen laughed. “It’s pretty?” He sighed. “Okay, you’re the captain. I’ll have to bust it up, though, to make it fit.”

“Do it. Make it fit.”

Six swings of a two-pound sledge did it and Jensen packed the pieces into the sample crate. “There, made it fit. Wow, it’s even prettier on the inside.”

Adams grinned. “I know my rocks. Stiles, got those soil samples?”

“Got them. Not much more than sand, though.”

The captain nodded. “Our time here is up. Can’t say I’m sorry.”

Ten minutes walking found them beside the rocket, gleaming proudly in the blazing sun. Stiles put one foot on the ladder, cocking his head to one side.

“Stiles?”

Stiles looked around quizzically. “Sorry, Captain. I thought I heard something.”

Adams listened. A slight breeze teased his golden hair. A low moan, barely audible, touched his soul. It was the saddest sound he had ever heard. He shook his head and said quietly, “It’s only the wind.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah… the wind.”

The sound of sorrow rolled over the boulder-strewn plain to envelop the three astronauts. It was a desperate sound that demanded attention, like a baby’s cry. Adams could scarcely believe his eyes were growing hot and moist while goose bumps erupted on his arms. He dared to look up at Stiles and Jensen and saw them reacting the same way. The sound increased and seemed to be coming from all sides.

“Captain?” Jensen stammered. “It’s heartbreaking.”

“Has to be the wind, through the boulder-field. Has to be.” Adams nodded up the ladder. “Let’s get out of here.”

Minutes later tongues of fire licked the terrain as the silver rocket roared to life and streaked into space.

***

“Monsters, Daddy! Real-life monsters! You never told us monsters were real!”

“I… I never knew.”

“Real, Daddy!”

“I swear I didn’t know.”

“Daddy, did you see how fast they moved?”

“Incredible speed. Incredible!”

“Daddy, what about…”

“Sshhhhh.”

“But where…?”

“Gone. Just… gone.”

“You mean forever?”

Through waves of emotion he grappled with the impossible emptiness beside him, an emptiness that for millennia had been occupied by his mate. He remembered her cries at every blow of the terrible hammer. It was more than he could bear. In excruciating torment the ancient, weathered boulder vibrated in sorrow, setting up a sympathetic vibration from the other boulders. He comforted his children and cried tears of sand.

• Copyright: © 2009 Jerry Scarbrough