Dark Sister, Dark Skye

As promised, here is one of my better attempts at a horror story, Dark Sister, Dark Skye.

Dark Sister, Dark Skye

The horizon was a huge set of beautiful colours; deep oranges, soft reds, tranquil pinks, tantalizing purples and then the faintest of august blues all around the glorious edges of the whole vista. In the centre of it all sat the magnificent sun slowly sinking deeper and deeper in the horizon, taking with it all the cares and worries of the day and leaving behind the cold serenity of night. And that was exactly the reason why Corazon loved sunsets.

She watched with unrestrained eyes until the sun sank below the edge of the world, and the ominous moon rose into the sky, the soft moonlight falling on her body. She bathed in the hushed moonbeams and the resplendent starlight, until she was suddenly wakened with a violent shake.

Her vision was blurred at first, and she felt a sharp pain in her head. She reached up slowly to cradle the sore. When she brought her hand back into line with her eyes, she saw that it was covered in blood. That’s when Corazon had remembered her situation.

Their ship had crashed on the planet V58YT, informally known as the Sister. The Sister was a planet on the edge of discovered space, which showed several similarities to Earth. It has water, lots of it, and its atmosphere has almost exactly the same concentrations of nitrogen, oxygen and carbon dioxide as Earth does. The Horizon – Earth’s first deep space star ship capable of sustaining life – was specifically designed to go to and study the Sister.

However, in orbit around the Sister, something went wrong. The prototype computers on the Horizon malfunctioned. Not one of the forty crew members was able to fix the malfunction, so the ship lost its orbit and spiralled down to the Sister, an eerie carbon copy of Earth, save for the abundance of life the Sister seemed to be lacking.

Corazon shook her head to come back to her senses. She was sprawled across the cold metal floor, her chest in a small pool of blood which she had guessed was hers. She slowly pushed herself up and looked around. She was on the bridge of the Horizon. Smoke was still floating through the air and the computer consoles were shooting sparks. The entire bridge crew of eleven was lying around her, dead. Some had large pieces of glass or metal imbedded in their skulls, others were twisted gruesomely around their consoles or chairs, but they were all dead.

Wondering if anyone else had survived, she limped slowly and painfully to the sliding doors at the back of the bridge, which were jammed partly open. Her uniform snagged on the handle, but she managed to squeeze through. The corridor outside was cleared, a plain silver, but Corazon smelt smoke.

She started moving quicker, ignoring the sharp throbbing in her head. A set of doors in the corridor, like the ones on the bridge, were slightly ajar. Smoke was pouring out of it and Corazon saw the blazing fire within. It was the medical lab. She looked in with squinted eyes, trying to see if anyone was alive. There was a loud cough and the sound of movement.

Without thinking, Corazon grabbed the edges of the metal door and suddenly pulled her hand back. The door was hot and burned her hand. She gasped, shaking her hand violently through the air. She clenched her teeth and ignored the pain as she pulled off the dark green shirt of her uniform. Underneath she wore a blood soaked, white tank top. She noticed a rip in the side of the shirt and realized a piece of shrapnel was imbedded just under her ribs.

Corazon forgot about that as she wrapped the shirt around her burning hands and then placed them on the door, trying to push it open once again. She heard the coughing from within, which increased her determination. When the door was wide enough, she threw her shirt aside and dived in the smoke filled room.

She saw two people crawling across the floor towards the door, and saw several other bodies in the background. One look told her they were dead. She helped the two that were alive out of the room, and they collapsed in the hall outside, coughing violently. Corazon had recognized them, despite their charred, dirty faces. One was Sarah Coral, head medical doctor on the ship. The other was the research scientist Joel Weaver.

“Thanks Colonel,” Joel said to Corazon.

“Did we crash?” Sarah asked hoarsely.

Corazon nodded. “Yes,” she said, standing up. “We should see if there are others alive.”

“What about the bridge?” Joel asked, coughing some more.

Corazon looked down in sadness. “No,” she said slowly and quietly. “They’re all dead.”

The three continued to search the ship, in silence. They found only three others alive. Cadet Darren Edge and Lieutenants Felicity Scream and Sherry Henderson. Together, the six of them were gathered in the mess hall of the Horizon. It was one of the only rooms in the ship devoid of smoke, fire or sparks, and was an ideal meeting place.

“The escape pods are all damaged,” Lieutenant Felicity Scream was saying in a husky voice. “We’ll have to send a distress signal back to Earth.”

Corazon nodded, examining the five of them. They had all suffered injuries, but were far from incapacitated. She could see looks of grief and hopelessness in their eyes, but they stood tall because they were well trained officers. “We’ll have to set up the transponder outside,” Corazon said.

Darren pointed to a metal briefcase-looking object, sitting on the only non upturned table in the room. “Shall we go now?”

Corazon nodded again. “The sooner, the better.”

Darren picked up the case and the six of them left the room, heading for outside.

It was like a desert outside; a hot, sandy desert. The sun hung high and big in the sky, beating down on the barren, rocky land below. As Darren was setting up the transponder, Corazon was observing the dusty landscape. Back on Earth, many scientists had speculated that there was life on this world. Corazon wondered if it was true.

“All right,” Darren said, “the transponder’s up.”

Sarah was pulling off the outer shirt of her uniform, sweat rolling down her face. She wore a plain white shirt underneath. “What now?” she asked, dropping her heavy uniform top.

“We wait,” Joel said, sitting down on the ground. He looked weak and exhausted. Truth was: they all were.

“Well,” Corazon was about to say, until she felt a pang in her forehead. She reached her hand up to the gash on her head, but it never made it. She suddenly felt light headed, and her vision blurred and faded, until there was nothing but blackness. She remembered no more.

The light was angelic, and at its heart was a splendid, heavenly face. The woman looked divine and godlike. Corazon blinked a few times, to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. When she opened her eyes again, she was met with the same sight.

The woman looked human in every respect, except for her exotically violet hair and eyes, shimmering under the bright lights of the room. At first, the woman was all Corazon could see, until the edges of her vision returned to her. She was lying on a cold table, still wearing her dirty, blood covered uniform. Corazon sat up. The room was pristinely silver, and the beautiful woman standing before her looked out of place. She wore a simple, primitive white dress and no shoes on her small feet.

“Be careful,” the woman said softly, placing a gentle hand on Corazon’s shoulder. “You were in a devastating crash.”

Something seemed out of place, and Corazon realized the two were alone in the room. “Where are the others?” she demanded quickly, and quite harshly.

The woman smiled soothingly. “They are well. They have already been taken care of.” The woman pointed with a purple painted nail at Corazon’s head. “Your injuries were more…serious,” she explained, keeping her smile.

“Where am I?” Corazon asked groggily. She felt suddenly light headed, again.

“Why, you are in Trinity,” the woman said, “my city.” She offered her help as Corazon slipped off the table to stand up. “Your people call this place the Sister.”

Corazon suddenly realized the realities of the situation. She was either talking to an alien, or dreaming. She liked the sound of the second one better. “I must still be unconscious.”

The woman shook her head. “No, you are fully awake, I assure you.” She extended her hand welcomingly. “I am Lady Deirdre Skye.” There was something about the way the woman said her name that made Corazon shiver. However, the feeling was quickly lost in Deirdre’s lovely, hailing smile. “Come,” Deirdre continued, “I will show you where you can wash and change into fresh clothes.”

About an hour later, Deirdre led Corazon into a brightly lit room. There was a table in the center of the beautifully decorated room, and the five survivors of the Horizon were seated around it. However, they seemed uncharacteristically stiff. There was food on the table, and Deirdre extended a warm hand towards it. “Eat, please. You must be hungry.”

Corazon nodded. Now that Deirdre mentioned it, she was famished. She sat down hastily, and that’s when she realized a second something was wrong. None of her crewmates were talking. She looked over to Joel Weaver, seated next to her, but his expression was blank. Corazon was about to speak, when she thought she heard someone whispering. She turned around and saw Deirdre locking the door. Panic quickly welled up inside her, and the whisperings became clearer. “Help me, Corazon…” she heard Joel whisper beside her. Corazon snapped her head to the side, but he had not moved. “What’s going on?” Corazon demanded, standing up.

Deirdre walked around the chair to face Corazon. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Help me, Corazon…”

            Corazon was confused as she turned around to look at Sarah Coral, the one who whispered this time. Corazon concluded she must be dreaming, so she shut her eyes. When she reopened them, she was somewhere else. Not entirely somewhere else, but somewhere different. The room seemed to have been transformed. The lighting was dim and threatening, the table was crooked and cracking, and, worst of all was the sight of her crewmates. Corazon looked at them, all five, and saw them strapped down to chairs around the table. Their faces were pale and blood covered, and they all had identical knife wounds in their chests. Corazon gasped and jumped back, right into Deirdre. She screamed as she turned around, but Deirdre’s wicked hands snapped out and gripped Corazon’s wrist fiercely.

Deirdre’s hair was black, her skin dark and dirty and her eyes were red and hellish. “You sure you won’t have anything to eat?” she asked sadistically.

Corazon struggled to be free, but Deirdre’s grip was too powerful. “What? What is this?” Corazon screamed.

Deirdre leaned closer to Corazon, so their noses nearly touched. “We have waited for you, Corazon. I have waited.”

Corazon was shaking in fear. This must be a dream. It must. She decided not to answer Deirdre, who continued talking. “This is very real, I assure you,” she hissed. “And now you, like your friends, will die.” With one hand grasping her wrist, Deirdre reached to her belt and unsheathed a heinous, rigid dagger.

Corazon suddenly realized that, yes, this was real. She cringed as she looked over at her five dead comrades. Deirdre must have done that. “Why – why the charade?” Corazon asked, pulling together as much courage as she could.

Deirdre was staring at the knife, focusing on its impious blade. “A girl needs to have some fun,” she said in an eerie and indifferent way that made Corazon shiver.  Deirdre started gently running the blade of the knife up and down Corazon’s cheeks. “And, I must admit, I get a sick, sadistic pleasure from not only killing your friends with this here knife, but watching the horror manifest in your eyes. Watching the fear embody and control you.”

Corazon was speechless. She was very afraid, and it paralysed her. She was certain she would die now, yet hoped this was just a dream. Despite all of this, she was confused. Why was Deirdre doing this? Who is Deirdre?

Everything had happened so fast, it seemed distant and not real. “Are you – are you going to kill me?”

Deirdre nodded and laughed. “You catch on quickly.”

“Why?” she asked, trying to keep her breathing steady and even.

Deirdre raised the knife. “Well, I was bored today.” Without another word more, she drove the knife down into Corazon’s chest. Corazon gasped and tried to cry out in pain, but blood came spilling out of her mouth.

Deirdre looked down as Corazon’s body hit the ground and spill blood onto the floor. She slipped the knife back into her belt as she watched the life drain from the colonel’s body. When Corazon was dead, Deirdre turned around swiftly and headed for the door. She unlocked it and stepped into the bright hall outside. As she was closing the door, a young child came strolling happily down the hallway. “Hello Isaiah,” Deirdre said motherly with a glorious smile.

“I’m hungry mom,” the young boy said.

Deirdre Skye laughed lightly and started walking down the hall with him. “So then, what would you like for dinner tonight, honey?”


If you read it and think it sucks, I feel you. But I had to post it for the Halloween season. If you didn’t catch the post before this, I talk more about my attempts at writing horror and my thoughts on the genre. Thanks for bearing with me.

Till Next,


Categories: Life, Writing | 3 Comments

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3 thoughts on “Dark Sister, Dark Skye

  1. Pingback: What If It All Means Nothing « What If It All Means Something

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  3. Pingback: Lost Ideas of Lost Worlds « What If It All Means Something

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