The Beacon

I never knew being lost wears you down worse than running out of supplies. That beacon was a lifesaver, a guide back into the embrace of friendly companionship. Suddenly, a heavy weight lifted from my soul.

I had always felt lost. My whole life. But there was one days were I was found. My life was forever changed in that single moment. Let me start from the beginning.

It was the first of May, 2085. Spring had just started to begin, even thought it was late in the year. The smell of fresh daffodils and poppies swirled in the air with a light breeze. My mother, Carly Hopper, had just gotten a grant to visit space on the Horizon II, NASA's newest experimental tourist space shuttle, and trust me, grants were hard to get. They told her she was allowed to bring one guest. She chose me. I was in my happy place.

The shuttle was scheduled to depart on the twentieth of May at eight AM sharp. We were beyond excited. We got there over an hour early and got great seats by the window to get the best view. We watched other eager passengers board and before we knew it, the launch procedures booked over the loud speaker throughout the cabin. Pretty quickly after that, we were off.

I don't remember much of the actually trip itself, but I know it was beautiful and lengthy. Our final destination was a new space station made especially for guests. It was similar to a hotel, but in space. It was called The Beacon.

I remember having an amazing view of a cluster of colorful gases in the distance and the faint glint of a few stars. Earth was merely a spec in the distance, which seemed odd that we were located so far from home. We were scheduled to stay for 2 weeks before Horizon II was going to be back to return us to our tiny planet. The first week was a blur; it went too fast. The second week, however, was painfully slow.

It was a Monday. We knew it was going to be a bad day when we woke up to alarms blaring at around 5 AM. The man on the loudspeaker told us to head to the main lobby immediately, so we did. Everyone was crowded in the small lobby by 5:15. Most were confused and concerned, others were bothered.

"It's too early for this!" I heard a young woman yell, her voice raspy.

"I have big plans for today!" An older man blurted out.

"I need my beauty sleep!" whined a little girl.

I don't remember how I felt. I don't think I cared too much. Mom was horrified. She always tended to think the worst of every situation, especially ones like this. She made me hold her hand like I was five again and she always turned around to make sure I was still okay.

Eventually, probably around 7:30 AM, a man who claimed to be in charge came out and assured us that everything was fine. While he was talking, I whispered to Mom that I had to go to the bathroom and she reluctantly released my hand. I didn't actually have to use the bathroom.

I wondered through the deserted halls. Everyone seemed to be in the lobby, even the crew. I made my way to the control room, somehow. I then saw what was really happening on the security cameras. It was too late. Everyone, including Mom, had left the space hotel in a group of emergency pods. Mom left me.

A few years pass. I'm still here. Still alive. I found basically a lifetime worth of supplies. I will admit that sometimes I do fear running out of supplies. But then I remember something: I'm happy. Satisfied. Content.

I never truly realized that I was suffering around others. I needed to be alone to feel like i wasn't lost anymore. I realized something else, too. The Beacon wasn't just some fancy space hotel. It was an actual Beacon. One of a new life. One of hope. One of clarity. One of companionship. Not with others, but with myself. I found a friend in myself. Call me crazy, but I truly believe that I am all I need. I never knew being lost wears you down worse than running out of supplies. That Beacon was a lifesaver, a guide back into the embrace of friendly companionship. Suddenly, a heavy weight lifted from my soul. I felt like I could float, and I loved that feeling.

It's been six years, eight months, three days, seven hours, forty minutes, and thirteen seconds. I am still content. I always will be.
Forever.
Until the end.
Love, Audrey Hopper.