The Place We Called Home — Short Story
The sun broke the canyon crest as the new day dawned. Birds sang their cheerful melodies and arthropods scurried in the tough dirt below. Cumulus clouds dispersed the sun’s rays as they traveled across the waxy morning sky.
The beauty of the morning symphony made it hard to believe that in just three hours, all of it would be gone forever.
As the daily habituation continued, more life stirred awake and prepared for the new day. High above the serene planet, a silent shadow descended through the upper layers of the atmosphere. The shape was iridescent, globular, and quiet. It glided gently, jerked violently on it’s horizontal axis, and continued on it’s course towards the surface.
The clouds parted around the craft as it’s exterior reflected the light from the distant star conquering the blue sky. Beads of precipitation moistened the ship giving it a beautiful glisten much like the smooth shale below. In a matter of seconds, the unknown vessel halted and hovered peacefully in a small nook of towering clouds.
Not a single ant, rabbit, or crane understood the immense danger they were in at that very moment. The wind blew gently around their habitat, rustling sage bushes and wild thistle, spreading pollen to new regions.
Suddenly, a violent whistling sound heralded from the sky. A screaming cyclone exploded through the calm air and grounded viciously into the dirt. The silvery craft shook ferociously and began to emanate a red glow. Without warning, the ship plunged toward the surface, struck the Earth, and ended the place that we called home. Light. Violent, stunning light.
