Horror Story 2955 – The Hollow Between Stars

We were halfway through the Pyro jump when we saw it.

A blue light drifting through the void, small as a spark.

It moved like it was alive, pulsing in rhythm with our engines, mesmerizing.

Then it touched the viewport and slipped through the glass, sinking into the bulkhead like ink into skin.

The hull trembled. Every console flashed the same line: ENERGY SIGNATURE UNKNOWN – QUANTUM RESIDUE DETECTED. Then silence. Just the hum of drives and the faint glow where it vanished.

Hours later, the sound began. Screeech, screeech, like the hull twisting and cracking.

Then came the bang.

“Am I hearing things?” I whispered to myself.

Something moved past the viewport. Outside. In quantum. That’s impossible.

Alarms blared, red lights, piercing tones, the Captain’s voice fighting through static.

“Something’s forced us out of quantum! All crew to stations!”

The Vara dropped hard into real space. Every panel rattled like bones in a tin coffin. Outside, the stars twisted. Pyro’s light storms, red clouds and black lightning were inside the wormhole, crawling toward us like veins across glass.

Then the noise again.

The screeching, closer now, coming from inside the walls.

Engineering called in movement on Deck Three. Thermal scans showed humanoid heat signatures colder than the void. Then someone screamed over comms, cut off mid-breath.

We sealed the bridge. I joined the team to investigate.

The corridors had changed. Too long. Too dark. The emergency lights flickered slow, like the ship was breathing between blinks. The hum of the engines didn’t sound mechanical anymore—it sounded alive, like something massive breathing just below the metal.

Mira was ahead of me.

She turned a corner and never came back out. No sound. No scream. Just gone. We followed her path, weapons drawn.

The hallway looped back on itself, the air thick with static and the smell of burnt coolant. That’s when we found Raines.

Or what was left of him.

He was fused into the bulkhead, ribs pulled wide like cables, flesh braided through the metal seams. One arm twitched inside the wall as if trying to break free. His eyes still moved, darting toward us, pleading. His mouth opened, and the Vara exhaled. A wet, metallic breath rolled out, cold enough to frost our visors.

Someone behind me whispered a prayer. I just stared.

I called for the Captain, but my voice came back through comms, delayed and warped, my voice, laughing.

I made my way back to the bridge, then I saw her. My Captain, standing in the cross-section ahead.

Half of her uniform, half raw steel.

Her hand was fused to the console, fingers melted into the controls, veins glowing with the same blue light that entered the ship.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, but her mouth didn’t move.

The Vara pulsed. Bulkheads rippled. Deck plating twitched beneath my boots.

I ran, but the corridor folded back on itself, leading me to the viewport again.

Outside, no storm. No stars. Just black. And in that black, a reflection, dozens of faces staring back from the glass.

Every one of them was a crewmate. Every crewmate was me.

Now I’m alone in engineering. The lights flicker slower each time.

The air tastes like metal. The hum matches my heartbeat. Every console whispers fragments of our voices. I tried shutting the power down, but the ship won’t let me. It hums when I sleep. It breathes when I don’t.

The screeching never stops. It’s closer now. Inside the vents, beneath the floor, behind my eyes.

It’s in my pulse.

My veins.

My teeth.

Every breath echoes back a little louder, a little less human.

The walls creak and whisper my name.

I think I finally understand.

I’m not hearing the ship.

I am the ship.

If you hear this, turn away. Seal your comms, burn your drives, forget our name. We thought we were explorers, but we opened a door that doesn’t close. The Vara isn’t lost. It’s spreading. I can feel the jump drive hum again. It’s calling for you.

Please... don’t answer.