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The First Death

The empty room was on fire. I was crouching, struggling to get free. Where did all the guards go so suddenly? There were eight or so of them earlier, before I passed out from the electrical shock. The living flames climbed the walls licking at the high ceilings. The thin toxic green rope was cutting into my wrists. The more I struggled, the tighter the strange cord got until I was covered in my own blood. The smoke produced by the fire was stinging my eyes. The giant ears that I had become used to seemed to scream out in protest of all the noise. Though the sharp, cricket like sound could easily be from somewhere else on this horrid ship, the echoing in my ears made it feel like it was coming from my very skull.

Was this really how it was going to end? Dragged to the other end of the galaxy only to die from a fire? Is this irony or are the gods making some black comedy out of me? My education, my job, hell my entire life was taken for a stranger. Shutting my eyes to the blood, I waited for the familiar sting of pain to come followed by the slow fading of my existence. I'm about to die again. Damn you Galia, wake the hell up!

Ha. If anyone were to read my life story I'm not sure if I would be pitied, or considered lucky. I'm sitting here, thousands of light years from home in a place no human will see. No one knows this place exists and no one will find me when I die. Some story this would make. Everyone I ever knew thinks I'm dead, while I sit here fear ridden and blood soaked.

When I first met Galia everything was different. I was sane. A typical girl of the big city, and as far as I recall, it was a Friday. I couldn't tell you what day it is now - or even how long it has been - but that doesn't really matter anymore. The day that I met her was when everything changed.

Work at the diner ran late and it was already night fall outside. The dark sky gives me the willies. I opened the front door to the outside world and cold air met my face. Getting off work late didn't happen too often as we were located on a back street and were 'Family Owned'. Our customer count wasn't as high as most main street restaurants. Not that the family were entirely on speaking terms either, but it was family owned none the less.

The reason I was late getting off work was that there was an event near closing time that involved light bulbs exploding. Honestly, every light bulb in the diner had burst into bright sparks of glittery glass only to fade into darkness. At the time the cook simply shrugged and blamed an energy surge. One of the waitresses had blamed the supernatural as 'there are surge protectors on most city power lines'. The discussion among the three of us and the few customers present slowly turned into a debate.

Cleaning the broken glass that had lost its brilliant aspects was difficult in the freshly fallen darkness of dusk. Burnt into our vision, we could still see a faint glow of the elements on the backs of our eyelids. Sweeping in short, tight strokes I managed to get most of the glass picked up as the cook searched for a replacement light source. In the end he simply cursed and deemed the final tasks as 'morning crew's work'. Sending us out into the cold night air with little more then a nod of his head, he locked the door behind his wide body. With a hug to the other two waitresses we each went our separate ways and now I walk down a dark street with the debate still continuing in my head.

Why is it so cold already? It's still summer. The frigid night air was blowing through my blouse and up my skirt. The only light for what seemed to be blocks in either direction was the bitterly pale moon. All the lifeless bulbs from shop windows and street signs were staring at me like empty eye sockets. They were piercing my skin with their darkness. Uneasiness crept over me as though something were watching me and I sped my step to escape the eerie silence. I'm not sure if I should be scared or if I am just being silly, because the light bulbs that were watching me were unbroken. The rest of the street was untouched by our explosion.

The shops I passed seemed empty in a creepier manner then most nights, almost as though the town had been abandoned while I was busy at work. Block after block it all seemed repetitively odd, making me feel like I were trapped in some endless spiral of echoing footsteps and my own terrified imagination. The second seemed like the bigger threat to me.

Its then that I heard the hush air cut sharply by what seemed like a whirring buzz. The sound quickening with intensity, I stood frozen in place. Both terrified and curious what could create the strange noise. It was as though an army of bees were circling in on their target, ready to strike. The buzz grew to a great motor like roar and I was engulfed in a blast of moving air. Everything seemed a slow motion blur including the wet sound of my ribs cracking under pressure and the solid concrete coming up to pierced my face. The sharp bite of stone shot through my right cheek and over my eye to my forehead, releasing oozing, sticky blood As my body followed my face to the sidewalk, my body let out its own desperate cry of pain, and it all ended with a blanket of black. This was the moment of my own untimely death.