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Watching Red Skies

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You never quite get used to the beauty of a Martian sunrise. As the sun rises, it lights up the sky like a glowing flame. The air is full of clouds of red dust. In the morning, the the flame of the sun rises and licks the blush pink dust. As the day progresses, the clouds pulse blood red. Sometimes, lightning strikes down through the dust clouds, white veins of light pulsing down to the ground below.

I watch the skies, and the ground. My two eyes have to watch everything. You see, I am alone but I was not always this way. There were twelve of us. We came from Earth, the first research expedition to the red planet. We set up a small research station. After we had been here three months, people began to dissappear. At first we put it down to accidents. But soon we realised that something strange, unexplainable, but ultimately dangerous, was happening. 

I wish I could explain how twelve became eight, and eight became six, and six became three, and now one, but I cannot. All I know is that there is something out there. Some days I imagine that it is a monster. Other days, I imagine an all-consuming truth. Everyday, I watch red skies and red soil, waiting, wondering when it will be my turn. 

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