The Last Martian
He breathes in the air, alien dust filling his unaccustomed lungs. The expedition sleeps tonight in a drunken stupor, their beer bottles scattered on the earth of dead hosts, oblivious to their intrusion on antiquity.
But Spender knows. He knows the price that comes with building over an old world. He knows that, someday, they'll be nothing but the same dead cities and graveyard bones. Chess-white spires may crumble, ancient songbooks may be lost. But Mars lives on. The red deserts let no one go.
By morning, Spender will be no more. And the Last Martian will plan his revenge.
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AN:
Just a little drabble inspired by "—And the Moon Be Still as Bright", a short story from "The Martian Chronicles" by Ray Bradbury.