authorkimberlygrey:

Short Story Sunday No. uh..??

Okay so I thought I was pretty good about keeping my numbering straight on these things but I looked back and I was…not. So I’ll hopefully go and fix the numbers at some point.  

Anyway, no single prompt for this week, but it is another humans are weird type story wich you guys seem to like. I’ll probaly be writing more of that stuff in the future so that I can get used to a sci-fi setting for Woodsong, but there will be another Ascendant story coming soon. I might wait until next sunday, but I might post it early. 

“Come a little closer.”

Despite their wonderful eyesight, the humans do not like to stand close to the windows. Even when the ship draws near an visually pleasing feature, they hang back. When invited closer, they pale and laugh. “I’m close enough, thanks.”

Despite their boundless courage, the humans do not like to go outside of the ship. Even in the most dire of emergencies, they hesitate, they look to their comrades to see if anyone else will volunteer. When asked: “You race has dreamed of coming to space long before they were capable, are you not eager to experience it more closely?” They pale and laugh, too sharp, too high, closer to a sob. “I’m close enough, thanks.”

Despite their advanced hearing, the humans do not like to be approached without announcement. Even the most noisy of crew mates must call out to the humans, lest they sneak up upon them. When asked: “Why do you not listen more closely?” They pale and laugh and stare at the windows they will not approach. “I listen closely enough, thanks.”

Despite their great intelligence, the humans do not like to work on upgrading their ships. Even when other races make breakthroughs on their theories, they do not demand access to the new engines. When asked: “Why do you not wish your ships to go faster? You could be the first to see the edge of the galaxy?” They pale and laugh, there is no joy in their eyes, but something desperate. “We’re close enough to the edge, thanks.”

When I ask my human crew mates why they fear space so, they all pale and laugh, their eyes dart to the hull, where the void awaits them. Patient and silent. “You wouldn’t understand.” they all say.

“Please try to explain.” I entreat, and they do. They tell me what makes their boundless bravery quail, what makes their great intelligence twist in upon itself in the attempt to understand.

They tell me what they see with their wonderful eyesight. They tell me of the endless eyes that watch us as we drift through the void. More than that, they tell me what they hear with their advanced hearing. The voice that comes through the windows, through the hulls, through their very minds. The voice that whispers always:

“Come a little closer.”