Transmission 1:
The countdown echoed ominously around me, as my heart pounded in sync with the numbers that seemed to reverberate in my skull. I wiped my sweaty hands on the legs of my space suit, mentally preparing for the launch. The roar of the engines enveloped me, drowning out everything else, as I was thrust back into my seat, feeling as though the hand of a giant was squeezing me into oblivion.
As the rocket ascended, I could feel the oppressive force of gravity gradually relenting, until weightlessness set in. The stars outside were a dizzying, mesmerizing kaleidoscope, drawing me in, tempting me to leave the confines of my vessel. I had expected this part; the allure of the unknown had always been what drew me to the stars. But it was the voices that I hadn’t anticipated.
They began as faint whispers, barely audible above the hum of the rocket’s machinery. Slowly, they grew louder, more insistent, a cacophony of alien tongues vying for my attention. I shook my head violently, trying to dispel the auditory hallucinations, but they persisted, worming their way deeper into my consciousness. Panic clawed at my chest as I struggled to focus on my mission.
The voices began to take shape, forming grotesque and unnerving images in my mind’s eye. I found myself watching as planets twisted and contorted, their surfaces erupting with monstrous growths, the universe itself appearing to bleed and shudder in agony. The screams of dying stars filled my ears, echoing through the void, demanding retribution. The horror was all-encompassing, threatening to swallow me whole.
My hands trembling, I fought to maintain control of the rocket, desperately trying to shut out the ghastly visions that threatened to consume me. The voices grew louder, more insistent, the images more visceral, until it felt as if the very fabric of my being was being shredded by their malevolence.
In that horrifying moment, I realized the terrible truth: the void of space was not the silent, empty expanse I had once believed it to be. It was alive, seething with ancient, malicious entities that lusted after the fragile sanity of those who dared to venture into their domain. And as I hurtled through the cosmos, with the voices and visions clawing at my mind, I understood that I was now a part of their twisted, unending torment.
With every ounce of strength I have left, I’ve managed to record this message, desperately hoping it will reach Earth before another soul is subjected to the same nightmarish fate. To those who listen, I beg you: cease manned space exploration, and spare your fellow humans the unimaginable suffering that awaits them in the cold embrace of the void. The cosmos is not ours to conquer, for we have awakened horrors far beyond our comprehension. Let my experience serve as a warning, and let mankind turn its gaze inward, for the stars hold only madness and despair.
Transmission 2:
I’m no longer in control of my craft or my limbs but somehow I can still give voice commands to the communications panel. It is as if an unseen force have taken the reins, steering me towards the source of the haunting voices that torments me ceaselessly. My fingers twitch involuntarily, performing tasks on the control panel I have never learned. My body feels like a marionette, manipulated by the sinister puppeteers lurking in the darkest corners of the cosmos.
I am now adrift in space, a prisoner within my own vessel, steered relentlessly towards the terrifying unknown that calls me. I can only pray that this message reaches Earth in time to prevent others from sharing my fate. Heed my warning, and let my anguished existence serve as a reminder of the unspeakable horrors that lurk among the stars. I feel itchy all over…