In case there's anybody out there in Internet land who's like...what the hell is THIS stuff...
Ahem. Sorry. Will eventually get bored writing about characters from Firefly universe and will hopefully write some more poetry.
But until then...
Read!
.......................
The walls are shaking.
I roll off my bunk, which is steel-framed and strange, make my unsteady way into the hall.
Back on Lilac, bed was different, just a hard straw pallet in a wooden frame. It smelled like sun and sand and home, and I’d get awful tetchy about straw poking through. I got tetchy about lots, back then.
The hall’s deserted. I don’t know enough – not about ships in general or even just this ship – to know if this is just the usual shaky flying or maybe a real emergency.
I’d be the last to find out.
On Osiris it was different. No lumps in the mattress there. Hundreds of rooms, every one sterile and same and blank. The smell of disinfectant burned my nose when I woke up under all those electric lights.
I hear footsteps, and then the captain turns the corner ahead of me, walking this way. Walking, not staggering. How anybody can keep their balance on a tin crate that’s slipping through space at three fifths the speed of light, I never will make sense of.
“Stay clear, Civilian,” he tells me.
The cold metal floor stings the balls of my feet as I step out of his way. His steel-toed boots clomp as they carry him out of sight.
Call me a coward but I can’t stop him. If the worst is here, if we’re running from something, I’d rather not know.
Is this how Marcus felt? Did he roll out of bed to investigate strange sounds, turn the corner to see…?
Di di. Marcus. My blue-eyed little brother.
I hold on to the wall to steady myself and work my way back to my room, where it smells like stale air and engine grease. I bury my face in the sheets I brought from Osiris, inhale that smell of disinfectant and try not to think of what might be happening on the bridge.
Sometimes this happens. The walls shake or the ship makes noises I don’t recognize. I don’t know why.
Sometimes the other crew members laugh when they see me, and I don’t know why that is either.
Sometimes I look down and my hands are shaking, and I don’t know. I don’t know why.
Sometimes I wake up in my steel-framed bed with a scream on my lips.
You would too.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
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