vijaya
Photo by Vijaya Sundaram

My father used to tell me stories from the night sky. He could go on for hours yarning beautiful legends of mythical heroes. “The stars tell us stories of our past,” He would say, “The archive of our collective memory.”

I listened to him with raptured intensity, but never truly believed. I wish to gaze upon the celestial tapestry, but all I can see is our impending doom. Only AG-1775, the Apocalypse Galaxy, is visible now. Ominously it approaches: the harbinger of our annihilation. Already it has erased our histories, giving humanity amnesia. I cannot fathom what comes next.


Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Thanks, as always, to Rochelle for the inspiration.

Word count: 100

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18 thoughts on “The Last Constellation

  1. I remember the first time when I visited Africa. I stood there, looked at the night sky and felt so close to the stars. I live the first paragraph better and wish you would have continued in the same direction.Great take on the photo prompt

    Like

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