Drabble #2

The atmospheric heat melted our first landers. Then we bombed the surface. As we closed in, the first humans to attempt a landing (the low-bid contractor assuring us of the hull strength) we looked down upon a pock-marked landscape. We felt like vermin, scurrying into the dark. The deepest hole was our target. Named after a joke, Falstaff yawned, deep and inviting, a kilometer deep crevice created by that low-bid contractor. Somehow, we’d leave the cool dark of space, zoom past the molten air into the cool dark of the planet. On the trip out, we laughed at the irony.

Art created using Dream by WOMBO

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