Miria’s eyesight was poor, and that was before the hibernation sickness. She awoke alone. The Mon Chou was as deathly quiet as space itself.
It was a freighter—unglamorous, but cheaper than a passenger transport—hauling a wormhole mouth to Khambalia.
Miria wandered the identical empty corridors. Motion sensors kept her spotlit within the surrounding blackness. By chance, she happened upon the wormhole.
What crawled out of it wasn’t human.
Miria scrambled, her footfalls echoing, and hid among stacked crates, holding still until the darkness returned.
But something else moved. Something blurry that gnashed its teeth in the approaching light.
Notes: This is a drabble, or a story of exactly 100 words. I’m posting drabbles for the entire month of December.
Warmup Pages 