Week five of ‘Ten Weeks, Ten Prompts, Ten Minutes’ is an image from my list of ten prompts in my Narrative Prompts post. There is something hauntingly inspiring about this image, hence why I’ve been looking forward to this writing exercise.
I remember the day they came for us. I was eight years old, but I knew the importance. The air lay heavy with relief; a feeling I have never fully experienced again and doubt ever will. The sun was dying, we were dying, and angels came from above to save us.
I remember standing on the levi-pad with Mum, and my big sister, Fern, and the tingly, static feeling that spread over my skin as they boarded us. Some kids were crying; the huge hexagonal ship covering the sky for miles was intimidating, but no more so than looking up at the dying ember that was our sun. We left with the clothes on our backs, and thankfully, an angel let me take Lenny Bear, the stuffed bear Dad gave me before he died.
The angels, or aliens as the other humans called them, could have been mistaken for albino humans with their pale skin and white hair, but there was one distinct difference: their eyes. Mum thought they were freaky, but I found the gold sheen of their irises entrancing, beautiful even.
The living conditions were cramped. There was a crew of seventy angels on our ship, and approximately one thousand humans. In total, sixteen ships came to rescue us. That meant that only sixteen thousand humans had survived the death of Earth. The angels bunked us up with three other families. Mum, Fern, and I shared one bed, and their was barely enough food to go around, but we never once complained; we we’re too grateful.
The trip took the best part of four weeks. Mum said that an angel told her that we had to bypass four galaxies before we finally made it back to their home planet; the planet they called Haydra. Haydra was beautiful; an unspoilt Earth with a healthy sun that I could have only ever dreamt of.
I celebrated my eighteenth birthday and buried Fern on the same day. We fight on the side of the Haydran’s; the people who took us in when we we’re dying, who shared their planet with us, and who should have left us on Earth to die with our sun. Fern was killed by the human who started the mutiny, Vale. Vale saw the Haydran’s kindness as their weakness, and threw the salvation they gave us back in their faces.
I will protect my angels until my last breath, even if I have to kill every God forsaken, ungrateful human to do so.
All excerpts are the works of K.J.Chapman