Just figured I'd share. It's a story I jotted down in an English class a few years back. I cleaned it up a little, corrected some things, and decided to post it on the internet.
Anyways, feel free to unload some criticism or compliments, or a little of each. Enjoy!
The icy stars glide past the porthole, ponderous and heavy. The tiny hisses of the thrusters and the occasional chiming from the on-board computer are the only noises to be heard. Droplets of condensation detach themselves from the interior hull and float aimlessly about. The floors are hard and flat, unworn by the touch of feet. The steel chair, table and bunk are cushionless and sterile. There is a tranquil austerity to the interior of the small craft.
But like all things, that serenity comes to an end. The sharp clank of a docking ring peals out against the silence, a ripple in a still pool. A moment of fumbling, then a slight hiss as the pressure equalizes. Plastic boots pad softly against the floor, and the door’s iris spirals shut with an almost inaudible thump. The new occupant waits only a moment to kick off his boots before slinging the handle of his duffel over the antiquated coat-hook. Fabric rustles and buttons snap as the man strips and tosses his over-suit into the laundry chute. He slaps a console softly, causing a cabinet to spring open. He places the thin foam pad therein on the bare bunk, puts a blanket over the table. Takes out a crystal bottle and tumbler from another cabinet, places them on the table.
The bunk creaks under his weight, and then is silent. He proceeds to pour himself a drink, pull a worn paperback out of his pocket, and heave his feet up onto the bunk. After a time, the mechanical sounds of the ship begin to merge with the occasional sigh or sip of the occupant. And the stars glide on.