Space is quiet. Without it’s protective silence, we would be able to hear the deafening roars of the sun and the screeches of passing comets. I glance down at the controls of my ship. Jammed.
Broken. Never to work again. I cursed loudly, I used language and euphemisms which would give my granny a heart attack. It’s a good thing no one can hear you curse in space. I glance out the window.
A brilliant star meets my eyes through the tinted glass. I yell in frustration to some invisible entity. I punch the glass in frustration, only to feel pain course through my hand.
Embarrassed at my own outburst I meekly sit down. It’s a good thing no one can hear your cringe worthy moments in space. Anxiously I check my food supplies.
If I die, I might as well die on a full stomach. I sat there quietly eating some powdered ice cream. Feeling lonely, I hold a two sided conversation with myself.
I tell myself a funny joke and laugh hysterically. It’s a good thing no one can hear you go insane in space. Finally it is time. The star looks huge at this proximity.
The ships readouts indicate that the outer hull is melting. I can feel the tendrils of heat reaching through the ship and frying the inside. The heat is too much to bear.
If there is a hell, it must feel like this. Now the ship is only a few hundred kilometers away from this life-giving object.
I begin to feel my own skin burning as I am literally being cooked alive. I don’t mind the pain as much as the loneliness.
There is no one here to suffer with me, no one here to tell that it’s going to be okay even when it’s not. I relate with the star, it is all alone out here, nothing can even approach it.
Just like me, its roars and cries of sorrow and solitude are lost to the emptiness of space. It’s a shame that no one can hear my final cries in space.