PROSE
ASTRAPHOBIA its flames barely visible and its heat barely able to be felt. But, the man had been deep in thought, and the little warmth the campfire had offered him had seduced him into a state of comfort, and he had not the foresight to control the fire, and the fire had flared up. Its light spread out everywhere, and in an instant the clearing was lit up like a holy beacon beckoning crusaders to its location, and the man was thrown out of his daze. In another instant, he started to stamp at the fire, blowing on it desperately, trying to get rid of it. It receded, and the fire was no more, but it did not change the fact that anyone within seeing distance had known that there was activity there, that there was somebody there, and that he was in danger. Ever since the aliens had come, such fires had never been safe. The aliens did not come to Earth bearing gifts and technology, but neither did they come with great armies and space technology to conquer it. Indeed, their weapons were not so advanced after all, and their technology could not be considered advanced either if not for
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their ability to travel through space. Instead, they had infiltrated Earth. Several weeks passed before anyone noticed the aliens, with their smooth ability to shapeshift, and by then it had been too late, and any last semblance of resistance the humans could have put up was devoured. Ever since then, human lives had become worthless, and instead of humans, they had become more and more like prey to the aliens, game to hunt and enjoy. And, if the man did not care about his life anymore, he would have let out a loud groan of self defeat and misery, but he did care of his survival, and so he held it in and did not utter another sound in fear that he still had a chance to live, and such a sound would be the deciding factor to his death. His eyes were wide, and he surveyed the area, ears perking up almost comically. As such, when the leaves rustled, and the newcomer came to him, he was already aware of his presence, trembling. It had been a very long time since he had last met another human being, both of his own choice, and also because of his inability to meet another. It was dangerous to interact with another human being, for you did not know if they were an alien or not, did not know if they would kill and devour you after gaining your trust and lowering your guard. He was not a wild man, as most would be by this point in time, but rather, he wore surprisingly civil
and clean clothes, a simple tee and jeans with only a tiny bit of dirt on them. He was, however, a big man, tall and towering, and it was clear how he could have survived for so long. The newcomer looked around, and when his eyes found the cowering man before him, he nodded. “Hello,” he said. The last embers of the fire went out, and the smoky smell went away as well, carried away by a low wind. “Hello,” the man responded, his voice carrying a tremor with it. The newcomer glanced around again, before finally setting his gaze on the man before him. He stared intently for several seconds, a bit unnaturally from what the man had remembered from his past life. The newcomer cleared his throat, bringing his hand up to his mouth as he did so. “Can I stay here for the night?” The man did not outright reject him immediately, in fear that he would provoke the man if he were truly a human. Still, his hand unsheathed the knife at his waist, and he responded only with a jerky nod to the other side of the campfire. The newcomer nodded again. “Thanks.” He settled down, and without another word, the newcomer tried to light another fire, even.
