Nightmare Terrain: The Haunting of Mackkiwi
10 Nov 2023Groovy Groydis
The wreckage of the ASP Explorer served as a grim reminder of Commander Mackkiwi's plight. The once sleek vessel, now a mangled carcass, lay sprawled across the alien landscape. Days melded into nights with the ceaseless cycle of a star that never set, casting a perpetual twilight over the terrain. Mackkiwi, ever the survivor, had eked out an existence amongst the ruins, using scavenged materials and the faint biological signatures of the planet to sustain himself.
The isolation was a cruel mistress; the silence of the planet was oppressive, a stark contrast to the vibrant life of the inhabited systems he once knew. His only solace, the resurrected voice of COVAS, now felt like a mocking specter, its German phrases a jarring cacophony in the desolate quietude. Mackkiwi's attempts to repair the communications array had proved futile, and the COVAS system, though operational, was as incomprehensible as the alien landscape around him.
Each day, Mackkiwi ventured forth into the unknown, his eyes scouring the horizons for a miracle—a passing ship, a signal flare in the void, any sign of rescue. But the planet seemed to swallow his hopes, the horizon stretching endlessly, a canvas of despair.
Then came the night that blurred the line between reality and madness. As Mackkiwi lay in the confines of his ship's carcass, a chilling sequence of sounds pierced the stillness. It began as a hum—a vibration that seemed to resonate with the very core of the planet. The hum swelled into a cacophony of clicks and whirrs, unnatural, alien, and terrifyingly close.
In the grip of a horrific nightmare, Mackkiwi found himself fleeing through the dark crevices of the planet's surface. The relentless pursuit of Thargoid scouts, their bio-mechanical forms gliding over the terrain, filled his mind with dread. The game of cat and mouse played out under the shadow of looming rock formations, every hideaway a temporary reprieve from the spectral hunters.
His breaths came in ragged gasps, his legs pumped with the adrenal surge of the hunted. The Thargoids were upon him, their tendrils reaching, their presence overwhelming. And as a piercing strike found its mark, Mackkiwi's world plunged into darkness.
Jolting awake, his heart thundering against his ribs, he was met with the eerie calm of the wreckage once more. The sounds had ceased, the scouts vanished, but the terror lingered. Drenched in sweat, he questioned the reality of his ordeal. Was the planet's atmosphere playing tricks on his mind, its alien chemistry inducing these vivid terrors? Or had the Thargoids truly been there, their scouts a whisper away from his hideout?
In the cold light of the alien dawn, Commander Mackkiwi could only wonder, his mind a tangle of fear and uncertainty. The nightmare had felt so real, so visceral. Yet now, there was only silence—a silence that was perhaps more frightening than the nightmare itself.