Lily Hanson: 1rst place short story
Lily Hanson won first place for her short story “Perpetual.”
I feel nothing.
Not emotionally. In fact, I’m feeling many different emotions right now.
Physically, I feel nothing, because I am unable. Now, if someone came over and slapped me, I could feel that. The sting.
But here in space. In the emptiness, or perhaps fullness. I’m weightless.
People describe it as falling endlessly. I wouldn’t describe it as endless, because my fall will end briefly.
It’s darker than I expected. The color of onyx. The stars are everywhere-if I look down or up, which gives me a nauseous feeling, but they’re there too-but the light doesn’t travel in the way to make everything bright. I don’t really understand that phenomenon.
It’s vast.
Slowly, I speak into the radio, trying to make my voice as calm as possible. “Charles. Um, I think they’ve left us.” My voice still comes out gravelly and lower than I expected.
I don’t think he understands.
Charles isn’t the brightest.
“Well, I can see that. The shuttle will be coming back,” he says in his questionable, nasally British accent (he says he lived there for six months in high school).
I cleared my throat. “I don’t think they intend on bringing the shuttle back, Charles.”
“Well then how do they intend on picking us up?” He replies in a vexed tone.
I turn to face him.
His light, greyish eyes remain unassuming.
“They don’t. Intend on that,” I explain patiently.
A beat of silence.
It hits him.
What a strange moment, to watch the sky and realize it is a million times more endless than you. My helmet’s glass had begun to fog up at the bottom, almost like a countdown.
“You know,” I thought aloud to him. “This isn’t as scary as I thought.”
“They left us.” His voice shook with anger. “There is no way-it’s absolutely unacceptable…”
“Grasping for words?” I asked, almost with a chuckle. I outreached my own fingertips, grasping at my own emptiness.
“Stop. Stop, don’t talk to me.”
“Okay.” The fog has come up to just below my nose. It reminded me of my childhood snow days a bit-the fog on the windows we would draw smiley faces and hearts on. Or perhaps in a hot shower. Glass showers, or the mirrors when you step out.
“Ronald. Ronald, don’t panic, but I cannot move!” Charles exclaimed suddenly.
“Yes, I believe we’re paralyzed now. It’s a bit tingly, isn’t it?”
“WHY ARE YOU SO CALM?”
“Sorry. Forgot I wasn’t supposed to speak.”
“GAHHH!”
I had almost begun to sink back into my relaxed state when he began rattling on again.
“They can hear us, can they not? The space station? They’ll surely send someone up. Or perhaps if we ask politely, the shuttle will come back. Yes, they’re not too far, are they?”
I decided it was best not to respond.
A moment.
He sighed. “No one’s coming.”
“No.” The fog had continued to move up further and it was interrupting my line of sight. I’d have liked to get a better look of space, a last glance, but I realized if I closed my eyes, it looked practically the same.
My breathing had slowed a bit. Each breath was heavier than the last, but not in a painful nor desperate way. It was just slow.
“Ronald,” Charles’ voice was very soft now. There was a gentleness to it, a vulnerability. “Who will you miss the most?
“My brother. Harvard.”
“Your brother is named Harvard?”
“Yes.”
We both chuckled. “Tell me about him.”
“Oh, he’s a nerd…just like me. We were always like that…curious about everything, couldn’t keep our mouths shut, not even in school…I got in trouble a lot, actually.”
“So did I…Hey, did your brother do well in school?”
“No, he was awful…”
“Unfortunate for a man named Harvard.”
“I’d smile at that if I could feel my face. Who will you miss the most?”
“My mother. Or my best friend. You know those people that look past you in…in spite of yourself?…Empathy…”
“Empathy is a valuable trait.”
“Yeah…” Charles breathed out.
“You’re speaking in an American accent…”
“I’d smile at that…if I could feel my face.”
“Why do you pretend to be British?” I asked.
“It’s kinda nice to pretend to be someone else…all these expectations…sometimes it’s better to be someone else entirely…”
“Well, when it comes down to this, Charles…you don’t need that anymore.”
“I’m cold…”
“So am I.”
Like a snow day.
Brisk.
Laughter.
Clear.
A carrot nose.
“Ronald?” Charles called out.”
“Yes?”
“This is a good way to die.”
“I agree.”
The cold turned to warmth at some point, and I knew I was safer than I’d been all day. Safer than I’d ever been my entire life. Like a hug from an old friend.
You see, space was never empty.
In theory
It’s the most full.