Is There Life On Mars?
My very first attempt at flash fiction
Hello there, dear old and new subscribers! Happy Halloween to my American friends, and here’s a short and sweet piece of flash fiction I wrote 3 years ago. I hope you’ll like it.
The second time the girl saw him (her? It?) was on a winter night. She’d woken up, and couldn’t go to sleep again. She left her bed and went to the kitchen, feeling her way through the dark stillness of the house.
She was sipping water from a plastic mug, standing in front of the window, when the tall, white silhouette of the astronaut appeared on the other side of the window pane. The same white space suit, the same black helmet from which a light flickered. The girl froze and the mug fell on the floor.
In a hailstorm of hurried steps, her mother appeared.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Nothing, I ...’
‘Just go to bed. Do I always have to clean up after you idiots?’, her mother said, snatching from the girl’s hands the mop she’d taken to dry the floor, swearing at the girl and her father, God and Fate.
The girl went back to her room. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding, her mind replaying the same event from the previous summer. On a sweltering night, she had gone out onto the kitchen balcony when, on the roof of the opposite flat, the white space suit and the black helmet with the flickering light had appeared in front of her for the first time. The following day, the girl wasn’t sure whether she’d had a vision or a nightmare, but for months she couldn’t look up to the sky, or at roofs, or at people in white.
It happened in July 1976, when the Viking 1 lander touched the surface of Mars. This news – namely the chance to discover life on another planet – had filled the girl with dread. If the interactions with her fellow earthlings were anything to go by, humankind was in for a series of disappointing experiences.
The girl fell finally asleep and dreamt a snowy landscape. She could see herself walking that serene milky blue expanse – her footsteps light and assured – breathing in the quiet, frosty air.
Morning broke as usual, the house filled with the smoke of cigarettes sharpening the bitter notes in the lingering smell of coffee, and the breakfast-time exchange of abuse between her parents.
‘Do you have to spill your coffee every fucking time, you moron?’
‘Shut up, bitch.’
The girl would leave the house early for school. There was hardly anyone else around, the streets were silent and, in winter, filled with a soft, dusky light. When it snowed, the city sparkled with a fairy-tale lustre, a promise of clean, crisp air, and happy children.
The girl sat down on a bench at the centre of the small Baroque square she used to cross on her way to and back from school. She closed her eyes, opened them. The cold made her flinch. This time, the astronaut was sitting next to her.
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This was quite cool. Ending it with that particular escalation worked perfectly. It let my mind spinning possible continuations. I hope you post more microfictions!
This one has a coolness to it that makes it all the darker and more mysterious. I like it a lot.