Summary – the aftermath of a Wraith Culling of a planet, my take on it in a drabble and a half
Disclaimer – I don't own the wraith and I'm not particularly sorry that their creators do.
Rating – PG? Possible disturbing imagery
The Culling
The last candle drips burning wax on to the, once soft, white hand rested on the table. Now it looks set to crumble to dust and there is no resistance from the still figure. Who sits, ever watchful but unseeing and forever screaming silently.
For a civilisation that relied upon the gate to give them warning of the wraith attack, their coming from the skies doomed them. Combined with the new silent-running darts many were beamed up from their beds, with none of the carnage that usually accompanies a culling. The rest caught with not even enough time to scream as the life was ripped from them.
Left frozen in time in compensation for the lost years. Condemned and waiting for eternity.
As the candle extinguishes itself the burnt orange glow from the rising sun creeps into the room.
It rises too late, there are none left to greet it.