The Last Word

Don’t.

It was

Her last word.

Natasha’s last.

Don’t.

 

Don’t?

Don’t what?

Don’t leave me?

He will never

know.

 

Don’t.

A blip.

Static flare.

Lost when her moon

died.

 

“Hey!”

Constance

interrupts.

“You idiot!

The ship’s exploding!

You’ve got to get out of

there!”

 

He

ignores

her. Who cares?

Forget the Orb.

It doesn’t matter now.

So.

 

“Don’t

get in

my way.” “But-”

He ignores her.

She has her mission.

Stamper has his. That ship.

That ship took Natasha.

That ship left her with one word.

“Don’t-”

This is my attempt to write something in the style of a lanterne. A space otter lanterne, specifically.