Melancholy is everything that the rain brought. Clandestine memories from days where the sun witnessed love and passion never experienced. The youthful years guided and build lives along the shores of the island where they stood witnessing the stars sail past a memory. Something that remained there for eternity always caught their minds and heart. The red moon with formations reminiscent of carvings of some ancient angels who left centuries before to their destiny. This life has always been of seeking and observing, trying to recapture the majesty of the universe before everything fades into the baryonic ash.
Lyra, the northern constellation witnessed the first ever human explorations outside the solar system a millennia ago. Those bold dreamers who chanced upon a door that would redeem humanity and provide a passage to escape the dying earth. No regret remained for the earth that fell under the greed of men and machines. All that remained of earth are folksongs heard along the shores of this vast sea enveloping the planet and us, humans. They did not sing for the lost glory or sadness but for the triumph of having left the planet for good. Humanity matured a thousand years ago and here we were.
The blazing starships of earth never actually reached their destinations. Some say the builders never wanted them to be far from earth. Silly old men caught in their romantic obsessions of that old rock. We should have ventured long before when the space race opened our eyes, but we let the petty politics of yesteryear gods poking holes into our future. But now everything was done and calm. We went our ways. More than a hundred giant liners left earth that fateful year. There were no names for that event, it was planned and we left without any spectacle or goodbye. The mere billion, who did not want to leave, are history now. The occasional hyper signal or a stray freighter would bring messages of the crippled earth. Nothing much was left for humanity after the 28st century. The later centuries of the millenia saw drastic reduction in the population, down to a few billion compared to the height of a dozen billion in the year 2500.
We used binary mercators, and plastic sentience to signify that we reached a new dawn, where we stood for one dream. What skies we learned to be blue, what planets were drawn to the lines of feathers tipped into ink, flowing through ages, has finally reached a new dawn. We touched the horizon as the observatories flashed in their singularity webs, the message that we raced to the new worlds. Its the discovery, the spirit on fire to live our wishes. This new horizon, in it we are building memories of entropy, of our new existence in the mirrors of fire.
~End, Chapter 1~
[=] This would be a bold new venture. I'm writing my own science fiction short, short stories. This post served as an preamble of the series of stories. Like it, then leave me some free-electrons will you. It wont cost a thing, but I will become a better writer!
[=] The first series will be known as Mirrors of Fire. It's about leaving earth in the future and colonizing other systems. Wont dwelve too deep into hard sf, it will be readable.
[=] My collection of creative materials can be found at;[Ghostparticle.blogspot.com] but the blog itself will be offline from the list. This blog will have all the updates necessary.
[=] The CosmicCode Blog is online! The first article is in.
[=] Have a nice weekend!