found drama

There’s a handful of survivors.  We’re on a spaceship and it has long ago lost power.  We are drifting.  Slowly toward the collapsing glactic center.  Soon the craft will all past the event horizon; it will crush itself and all of us within.  But that is not our only fear.  Objects on board the ship have been disappearing.  We have spent weeks trying to figure it out.  Making our ways through the labyrinthine corridors, there is no pattern that we can discern to indicate what is happening.  One day something will be there and the next it is gone.  Then we catch an object just come apart in our hands.  Like the bonds that hold it together all break, right down to its component molecules and elements.  Like it never even existed.  And we suspect this is happening to us even as we pump as much power as we can into our distress broadcast, hoping somehow that someone will pick up on us and bring the rescue before we slip across that line and into the swirling electric blue center of gravity.

About Rob Friesel