The Still One
Commander Ellis had logged fifteen years of deep-space travel, charting frozen deserts and hollow moons, but he had never seen anything like this. The asteroid—if it was an asteroid—hung absolutely motionless in the black. No orbit, no drift, no rotation. Just stillness.
He stared at the readings for an hour, expecting a glitch in the instruments. Even cosmic debris, even the dust between stars, moved. But this—this thing—remained perfectly fixed, as though the rest of the universe revolved around it.
His ship’s AI offered no explanation. “Gravitational anomaly possible,” it repeated in a hollow tone. But Ellis knew the voice was guessing. Space doesn’t stop. Nothing does.
Against every instinct, he fired thrusters and descended.
The surface was black—so black it swallowed the light from his landing lamps. The metal under the landing struts made no sound when it touched down. He ran every scan twice. No life, no heat, no magnetism. Just silence.
When he stepped outside, his boots touched a surface smoother than obsidian. The ground didn’t crunch, didn’t echo—it absorbed. He tapped the comm in his helmet. “Control, this is Ellis. Touchdown complete.” Static answered. Then, faintly, a sound like breathing.
“Control, confirm signal.”
Nothing. Just that breathing—slow, steady, human. His own? He checked his suit telemetry. No anomalies. Heart rate steady, oxygen normal. Yet he could feel the sound pressing against his ears from somewhere outside the helmet.
He turned, scanning the horizon. But there was no horizon—only endless flatness, and above it, stars that seemed somehow closer, bending slightly toward him, as if leaning in.
He took a step forward, and the ground rippled. Not visibly, not in the way water moves—but he felt it, like something underneath was shifting, aware of him.
Then he saw his reflection.
A black sheen in front of him, perfectly mirroring his figure against the void. Only—it blinked.
Ellis froze. The reflection smiled.
“Who’s there?” he shouted, raising his light. But the reflection raised its hand before he did.
He stumbled back, panic racing up his throat. The whispers filled his comm again, clearer now. They weren’t words—more like remembered sounds, as though something was trying to reconstruct language. Then, between the hisses of static, a phrase surfaced:
“You made it.”
He ripped off his helmet. The air was thin, metallic, but breathable. He gasped—and with every breath, the whispers grew louder, no longer through the radio but around him, inside him.
He turned toward his ship. It was gone. Not destroyed—simply not there. The spot where it had been was smooth and untouched, like nothing had ever landed.
Ellis began running, though there was nowhere to run to. The stars twisted above, rearranging into shapes he didn’t recognize—lines, symbols, circles forming and unforming. They pulsed, faintly, like eyes blinking in the dark.
Time started to slip. The chronometer on his wrist flashed random numbers: 00:72, 13:61, 99:99. He tried to record a log, but every time he spoke, the playback returned in a different voice.
“This is Commander Ellis… I… I can’t tell what’s real.”
“This is Commander Ellis. I am home.”
“This is—” static, then laughter, his own.
Days—or maybe hours—later, he found the reflection again. It was closer this time, and the smile wider. The face beneath the visor looked rested, calm.
“Stop fighting it,” it whispered. “You’ve already landed.”
He reached out without meaning to, his hand trembling as it touched the black glass. The cold sank into his bones, deep and patient. For the first time, he understood: the asteroid wasn’t motionless because it couldn’t move. It was motionless because it was alive, waiting for something to arrive.
When Mission Control finally received his last transmission, it was barely a whisper:
“It’s not moving… it’s waiting.”
And then—silence.
Weeks later, long-range sensors confirmed: the asteroid hadn’t changed position. But now, beside it, there was something new.
A ship.
Perfectly still.
In the silence of space, something was listening.
Note:
Thank you for reading “The Still One”! This is a story in a series created for avid readers and English learners who want to enjoy captivating tales while practicing their language skills. Stay tuned for more stories and language tips to enhance your journey!
Explore more short stories in English and Spanish by visiting the section:
Short Stories / Cuentos Cortos
When the world feels dull, your mind restless, or your heart heavy, let a story be your escape. Just one page, one sentence, one word—and suddenly, you’re somewhere new, where imagination breathes life into the ordinary and turns the simplest moments into magic.
“Liked it? Smash that like button! 💥❤️”
The English Nook 
Leave a comment