Staring Starward

The war, if that was what you could truly call it, was swift and brutal. Vast swathes of the Earth were battered beyond recognition or repair as our unknown foe came and went without a merest hint of why.

In the weeks following the assault, many thousands came seeking refuge in our simple camp, shuffling along toward us, glassy eyed and listless, like some kind of apathetic zombie horde.

They were fed, watered, clothed and given seats beside the fires and slowly, oh so slowly, the humanity returned to their haunted faces. Our minds then turned to the coming days and how we could rebuild or ragged Earth.

Answerless questions were asked about our strange invaders and rumours circulated the camp like ghosts, flitting from fire to fire. The only thing we would ever truly know, in the dark days afterwards, was that humanity’s eyes now stared at the stars.