Kal's guitar

It wasn't the first note, or the second, that pulled me from my reverie into this deep pool of melancholy.

We'd been sitting in a circle outside the decaying yellow cafeteria listening to Kal strum his acoustic guitar for at least an hour. He usually sat by the edge of the grey blue river, alone with his thoughts; peaceful in his musical lamentations.

Source: Pixabay.com

Timothy and I were tossing a beat up old baseball back and forth laughing about nothing in particular when Kal suddenly switched songs. The crowd pleasing show tune changed abruptly into a somber swirling dirge. So much for folk style dancing.

It was getting late on this dismal planet, whose dark purple suns set at different altitudes.

It's easy to think everything's going to be okay as long as you keep yourself busy.

We had enough people to survive if we worked together. We had enough resources to last for a year, and enough equipment to continue to make resources for the foreseeable future.

We'd formed a hierarchy. Divisions of labor based on age, strength, ability.

The planet itself was darker than we were used to. During the daytime, it was like wearing really powerful sunglasses. At night you could only see a couple of stars. There was no moon. We were surrounded by an almost pitch blackness.

We hummed tunes to get to sleep. We told stories over campfires. We huddled together. Played tag. Formed baseball teams.

We went fishing for strange long tendrilled creatures that swished this way and that way in dark recessed pools of muddy water.

Mostly though....we didn't think about it.

We were busy.

Building tents. Catching food. Making water. Surviving.

For months I'd been that guy. The worker bee. Do what you're told. There's no time to mull things over.

Kal's song brought me back.

Back to the explosion.

We'd all told ourselves that they made it out. Escape pods. Emergency shuttles. Something. Anything.

It was a lie.

I knew it now.

Goodbye Mom. Goodbye Dad. I loved you both more than you can know. I don't blame you for this. I hope one day somewhere, somehow, I can see you again.

I'll try to stay busy. Maybe, if we work together, we can make it off this tiny rock in the middle of nowhere.

Until then, you'll find me weeping by Kal's guitar.