Chronicals of a space man · short story

Chronicles of Space Man; part one.

There are more colors than the ones of earth, you know. They live deep in outer space. I’ve seen them. They are just blur passing us by. Well, it’s more like us passing them by at an incomprehensible speed.

You see, we were only suppose to go to Mars, but we got a little off course. For some reason our ship decided to accelerate it’s speed right as were about to enter Mars’s atmosphere, and we have been going ever since. Measuring time would be virtually impossible with out the timer on our air tank. It’s counting down how much time of breathable air we have left. So we’ve been out here a week and we will only be here another week, even if we don’t actually get to earth.

Knowing that you probably will die unless there is some spontaneous miracle,is a peculiar feeling. You just want to do everything you can to get a second longer of life, so I breath slower. Even though I am told it won’t help,it calms me to be doing something.

But lets get back to the colors. They look like all the colors that we learn in kindergarten , but they are none of them at the same time. These colors are like peculiar feelings. Like the one you get when you realize other people have their own lives and thoughts that don’t just begin in your presence.Or like the feeling you get when you know you probably will die. Back to the death thing again; it’s all I can think about these days or hours or minutes or seconds.

I also think about time; time and time again does time enter my thoughts.It’s quite rude actually. I should be spending my last hours thinking about family and regrets. But time just so rudely barges through a mental door.

I was born twenty-three years, fourteen hours, twenty-eight days and twenty-seven minutes ago. Even though I should be thinking about other things; thinking about time makes me feel accomplished. Like I have survived long enough.

One of my crew members that had entered space with me, told me “there is nothing to fear but fear itself” but I believe he is mistaken. Death is a thing to me feared. Time is a thing to be reckoned with.

I was born twenty-three years, fourteen hours, twenty-eight days, and twenty-eight minutes ago. I have two sisters and zero friends.

I am also obsessed with numbers but I have also been that way.That insanity is not a side effect of nearing death.It was a side effect of my birth. My other crew member told me”You got a good heart, kid. But all kids do.” Her name was Sharon and she sometimes talks about death with me. She keeps telling me I am to young to die. She is thirty-five.

I was born twenty-three years, fourteen hours, twenty-eight days, and twenty-nine minutes ago and probably will die at twenty-three years, eighteen hours, thirty five days, and forty five minutes.

 

 

 

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