Inktober 17: The Old Planet

Is dying the right word for a world that had already experienced four heat deaths and ice ages? Perhaps “undying” is a better phrase, especially because that cycle of renewal is happening again and the building blocks of life are returning to Pandora. Sure, this time around the building blocks are being brought and assembled by terraforming aliens, but even if the world couldn’t quite get the process of life going on its own anymore, it was clear that it would create at least three self-sustaining colonies between 100-400 thousand each. It wasn’t much, but for refugees from a collapsed world, it was enough to have a newer place to have and call home. The planet, to its credit, was pleased by this turn of events, for it had consigned itself to finally die, old and alone, the last celestial body in its solar system. Now it had a purpose again, and though its new inhabitants wouldn’t know it, the world pushed itself back into vibrancy. Never say an old broad can’t keep doing what she’s always done.

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About Michael Robinson

An eclectic person living in a world rife with binaries, opposition, anger and pain and trying to find the spectra, love, happiness and catharsis within.
This entry was posted in Creative Writing, Flash Fiction, Inktober 2017, Short Fiction and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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