AUTHOR GUESTS POST: Legacy of Death

Throwback Thursday! We revisit a Author post from 2016

Today’s guest is me, Myra Nour

A S/F short story with horror elements

Legacy of Death: Science fiction short story by Myra Nour

Amazon

BLURB:

The Wazee are a peaceful race of scientists and explorers. When they set down on a dead world, they seek the facts. What could wipe out the sapients of this planet?

Unearthing an ancient text, they translate a story of death and destruction. When the Wazee discover the truth behind the worldwide genocide, they are stunned. The captain knows nightmares will haunt his sleep the rest of his life.

A macrabe tale by a multipublished, award winning author. Previously published in Twilight Times August, 1999.

A reader’s comments, “Very dramatic, eerie, and a mystery ending, just like those Twilight Zone episodes I so enjoyed, and still enjoy.” Larry 

REVIEWS:
Legacy of Death by Myra Nour

(Science Fiction Short Story)

This is a short story, where the peaceful Wazee race, are explorers and scientists. They set down on a planet, that seems dead.

They find the remains of a being from a dead planet they land on, clutching a text in it’s hands. When they take the text back to the ship and decipher it, the tale is very chilling.

Point of view switches between the wazee to the being who wrote the text, but it’s easy to follow along. I don’t want to give too much away, but the ending had a superb twist that I did not expect. Very original, very chilling, and a good short read. – Uncaged Book Reviews – 5 Stars

 

The alien’s POV at the beginning was a bit rough to understand, but when the story switched to the human’s POV, it was an easy read–an excellent read. And so was the ending when it reverted to the alien’s POV. Before I’d finished the story, I thought I’d guessed the ending. I was wrong.

The plot is about aliens visiting the Earth in the future and what they discover about the human race, about the planet Earth.
5 stars! –  CLox via Amazon

 

EXCERPT:

Went into the bathroom to shave.  Can you read my writing Dear Journal? My hand is shaking so as I sit to write this. Not that it matters if anyone can decipher it. Sorry, Dear Journal, I digress.  I’ve always felt better after my morning shave. I saw the familiar face frowning grumpily back at me in the mirror. It froze in mid-twitch, as if a frigid Arctic wind had found its way into my tiny bathroom and plastered the shocked expression there for all eternity.

A good jest by some forgotten dark god – to smite from the darkness, and return its victim to an equally black pit. Forgive me Dear Journal, here I go again with repetitive words. Here we go round the Mulberry bush… funny how little childhood rhymes keep popping up in my head, as if doing their best to distract me. But no, I was ever one to follow a story through to its completion.

After discovering  my own frozen effigy, the room turned gray and I gripped the sink to keep from falling. They have truly won the whole game now. The aliens will rule alone soon- all too soon.  I don’t feel any pain.  I am numb. Numb with despair, the same flood of painless pain I had felt when my wife died.

There were tears in my eyes Dear Journal…can you imagine, I couldn’t cry for Paul or the world, but for myself, yes. Selfish bastard! Many of my previous readers and girlfriends were right about that, it seemed. Or, is it a selfishness borne to every man at the appropriate time? I wax philosophical, I hope it is the truth.

I took several deep breaths and tried to still the trembling of my finger as I touched the oily blackness of the thing on my throat; my Vawee, my death. It was surprisingly soft and my finger left a slight indentation for a brief second. I grasped it in revulsion, planning to flush the thing. Such pain! Every nerve in my body screamed in protest. Had I forgotten the Vawee could not be removed, or had some feeble hope wavered in my brain because it was now myself who suffered?

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