Starlite

“They’ll be celebrating Startika by now. The music and dance will be so mesmerizing,” said Vlad as he gazed skyward.

“I wonder if they still think of me. Do they remember their promises?” the figure remarked, focusing the telescope optics.

Vlad is a vampire; well, that’s what we call him. In reality, he is from a planet one hundred light-years away.

“Ten years,” Vlad muttered. “They said it would be over in the blink of an eye.” As he spoke, he attempted to fine-tune the device’s optics.

Seven explorers came to the Earth two hundred years ago. All are dead now, but one. Vlad longs for his home and the touch of his loved one’s hand.

“I hope I can see the lights of Startika tonight,” said Vlad.

The explorer tried for a long time. Despite his efforts, he could not spot the atomic fireworks, which marked the end of the festival of lights.

“Sorella shows no fireworks; the entire planet is dark,” said Vlad.

Vlad turned from his optics and stared in the direction of his world. “They’re gone. All dead. I am the last,” whispered Vlad.

Vlad stood staring at the sky until the sun rose and, like the others of his team, burst into flames.

Somewhere in space, a hundred light years from Earth floats a burnt-out planet dead from a war of power.

The morning breeze spread the ashes of the last Sorellan across the land. No testament to their existence remained.

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