Hello, my name is Colonel James. Of course, it probably doesn’t matter, since I doubt anyone will ever read this. But I still feel the need to write it. Odd how the mind works, isn’t it?

We started with the best of intentions, and a noble goal. They called us the best and the bravest. We were those few chosen to slip the bonds of Earth, and venture to the stars.

We were told that when we got here, everything we needed to live would be waiting for us. We’d all seen the launches, dozens of them, sending food and supplies ahead of us. But when we got here all we found were empty containers, shredded and strewn about the rust-colored rocks.

At first we thought we could manage with what was left, and we might have succeeded if it wasn’t for them. Each night they took another of us, and now I’m all that’s left.

I now know I won’t survive, but you might have a chance to if you’re reading this. Leave this place before the first night falls.

I have to go now, the sun is setting, and I can hear them outside.

View this story's 2 comments.