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The Death Of A Martian

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I ran. That was all that was going through my mind right now. I watched a moment ago as my home had burned, with my family still inside. The terrorized face of my little brother will be forever etched in my brain. I can imagine the scene clearly. My parents realize that the house has gone up in flames, only they are too late. The entrances have been blocked with rubble, and they will face the consequences of not getting out of there fast enough soon.

They were not my only victims. Every one of us Martians will be dead by sunrise.

None of this would have happened if it weren't for me. I was careless, and I let myself be seen by the rover sent here by the earthlings. I simply walked right by it, and Humans sent for further investigation after seeing signs of life. Then they found us. Now my people are dying.

There should be a jet pack or two left in the general store. I doubt there is a clerk left, and even if there was, he won't be concerned with money. As I run around the town, desperately trying to get out, I take in my surroundings. Humans may not have the greatest technology, but their bombs do take a toll. My red planet that I once loved is now ablaze with chemicals and littered with bodies in the streets. Many tried to fight back against the various countries' troops that came in to exterminate us. The bombs were only a diversion until the soldiers could get here. Funny how humans fight each other so much- needless bickering, really- and when Aliens are involved, they come together in a snap to get rid of us. The majority of my people grabbed a gun out of their coat pocket and a knife out of their kitchen, and charged at the humans. Many people were dead from the bombs, others were gone in battle. The ones left, like me, are trying to get out. I finally find a jet pack amongst the ruins of the general store- groceries strewn across the floor, shattered glass everywhere, and some unnameable fluid seeping into my shoes.

As I run, I think about all of the people dead because of me. I have killed an entire race of people through one simple mistake. This weight shall forever be on my shoulders. I shall think about this when I try to find another home in a more accepting planet. Maybe Jupiter, perhaps Uranus. If anyone could possibly forgive me for what I have done. I get off the ground and fly past the soulless piles that used to be my peers. They look like old marionettes with broken strings. Their ghosts shall follow me on my journey to hell and back as payment for what I did. I am about to exit the atmosphere, but I am too caught up with the crime I have committed to think about what I have just forgotten to do.
I put on my helmet and activate the air tank, but too late. I gasp for air, clawing at my throat to try and open it up. I feel my face swelling, my eyes bulging out of my skull. My face becomes a demented sunrise, changing in colors from pink to blue. So this is how it ends? I think. I wish someone would tell me that it wasn't really my fault, that anyone could have done what I did. Only no one is around to tell me this. Even if they were, they wouldn't lie like that. Because it wasn't a simple mistake, and it was all my fault.

My struggle to keep breathing abruptly ends. I am now just a soulless marionette, like the ones back home. Only I am floating around space, on display for all to see. They will remember my mistake through history, the Martian who ruined his world.



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