He stood in the shadows, watching the hate flow between the humans. He’d been there for what they called a month. One after another, sometimes more than one a day, they picked each other off, spilling their blood into the ground. Senselessly. At first he thought there was a point to it. But no, there wasn’t. Not one he could determine anyway. They seemed to thrive on killing each other.
He’d been there before. In fact, he was the one who’d suggested this little planet as a possible host to his kind. They were chameleons. Able to fit in anywhere. Anywhere peaceful. His brethren could never survive in the current atmosphere. The non-stop mindless violence would leech the goodness from their essence and they would perish in a slow and horrid manner. No, earth was no longer an option. They would have to find somewhere else to call home.
He turned, preparing to go, when he was noticed. The native yelled at him, calling him an old man, demanding to know what he was looking at. He spun about, pulling the weapon he swore never to use, not even in self-defense. Without the slightest pause to consider what he was about to do, he aimed it toward the voice and pushed the button, vaporizing the human instantly.
Nothing, he thought to himself. He was looking at nothing.
Great sadness filled his being. It was too late for him. Now that he’d done the unthinkable, he could never return to his society. He looked down at the weapon, still in his hand. It only took a few clicks to change the settings. It was their doing that his existence was over which meant theirs should be too. He pushed the button again.
His crew, watching from space for his signal to begin transporting their people to their new home, suddenly saw… nothing.
© 2015 Barbara Huffert