God’s cursor

I was only out for a second or two. The force of the blast was tremendous, but even though I landed at least 15 meters away, the orange goo that covered the crater’s interior absorbed the shock of my fall and most likely prevented me from playing dinner buffet to a flock of skuas. I licked my lips. Blood.

Removing my gloves, I lightly patted my face and found at least a dozen lacerations. My jacket and pants were perforated with hundreds of tiny cuts, and I could feel the sharp pain of little cuts on my legs, but not so much on my upper body. I wiped my face on my sleeve, drawing a deep swath of crimson, and stood up, cringing.

In the distance, what was a gray, lumpy hulk was now a shiny, black hulk. I paused briefly, mouth agape, then, ignoring the pain in my legs, broke into a sprint toward the object.

I slipped and skated on the ice, the orange goo pushing back against my momentum, and when I reached the thing, I fell down and slid to a stop in front of it. The indistinct shell that had cracked and exploded was gone, leaving no fragments or debris anywhere, and in its place was a tall, heavy looking, huge, unbelievable, triangular-ish, ship. A space ship. I was staring at a space ship.

The vessel was easily twice my height, and it was pointing straight down, its sharp nose embedded a full meter into the ice, like some kind of giant-sized, alien lawn dart. The dorsal and ventral sides of the ship were smooth and flat, except for one small, ovular vent on each side, and the sides sliced away from the nose in a broad, rounded arc, accompanied by two rows of rectangular vents, then tapered slightly toward the rear of the ship which, because of the height of the thing, I couldn’t see.

There were no sounds, vibrations, lights or any indication of activity or life coming from the thing. It was cold and quiet.

I took my phone out and started snapping pictures. In the distance, Buzz started barking hysterically.