Gardens of Destruction

INTRO

The squadron moved according to plan, their Messerschmidts silently cutting through the frigid night sky. The moon, a pale orb in the inky blackness, cast an eerie glow on the desolate landscape below. Hans, one of the pilots, felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his stomach. He didn’t particularly enjoy night flying, especially over enemy territory. The Russians were notorious for their sudden ambushes, their planes emerging from the darkness like phantoms.

Hans peered through the windshield, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. The vast expanse of the night sky seemed to stretch on endlessly, the stars twinkling like distant diamonds. The surreal canvas of the nightscape, painted with the swirling clouds and the moonlight’s ethereal glow, did little to ease his growing unease.

As they ventured deeper into enemy territory, Hans’s apprehension morphed into outright fear. He glanced at his comrades, their faces etched with the same tense anxiety. The silence was deafening, broken only by the hum of the engines and the occasional rustle of the wind.

Suddenly, a low rumble shook the air, sending a shiver down Hans’s spine. His heart pounded in his chest, his senses on high alert. Was it his imagination, or was there something amiss?

The rumble grew louder, more distinct. A sense of dread washed over Hans as he realized it wasn’t his imagination. Something was coming, something big and powerful.

With a deafening roar, two colossal objects, shaped like giant wedges, emerged from the darkness. They were unlike anything Hans had ever seen, their sheer size and imposing presence sending a wave of terror through him.

The wedges hurtled towards the squadron, their speed and trajectory impossible to escape. The Messerschmitts, caught off guard, were no match for the unstoppable force. One by one, they were struck, their sturdy frames shattered like matchsticks.

In the blink of an eye, the squadron was decimated, the night sky ablaze with the fiery wreckage of their beloved fighters. Hans watched in horror as his comrades were consumed by the inferno, their cries echoing in his ears.

Alone and disoriented, Hans found himself adrift in the chaos. His plane, miraculously unscathed, was now adrift, a ghost ship in the sea of destruction. The silence was broken only by the wind whistling through the cockpit, a haunting symphony of loss.

A strangled cry escaped his throat, a desperate plea to a God he no longer believed in.

“O, mein got!”

With an air of superiority, Mrs. Robertson glided through the classroom, her presence commanding the attention of her young pupils. She had instilled in them a profound sense of admiration, a belief that she was the sole repository of knowledge and truth. Her authority over the minds of these eleven-year-old children was absolute, a source of immense satisfaction for her ego.

“Now, to wrap up this lesson,” she announced, her voice resonating with authority. “As we explore the realm of asteroids, let’s delve into this particularly intriguing event.”

In one swift motion, she drew the classroom curtains and ignited the projector, its beam illuminating the screen. The image that flickered to life was a sight that sent a shiver down the spines of the children – a series of deep craters, arranged in a chilling circle, their depths shrouded in ominous darkness.

“During the tumultuous times of World War II, we were witness to a celestial spectacle known as the ’Rain of Reinmuth,’” Mrs. Robertson explained, her voice imbued with a hint of morbid fascination. “Named after the German astronomer Karl Reinmuth who first documented its occurrence, this meteor shower unleashed a torrent of celestial debris, fragments the size of towering buildings plunging into the earth’s crust. These craters, as you can see, stand as stark reminders of this cataclysmic event.”

The image expanded, revealing the scattered formations of craters across the globe, each a testament to the power of the universe’s fury. A ripple of apprehension coursed through the classroom, the children’s eyes wide with wonder and trepidation.

“The scientific community is still debating how it was that these objects, of such immense size and destructive potential, failed to bring about the end of the world,” Mrs. Robertson continued, her voice echoing with the weight of unresolved enigmas. “Perhaps, one day, when you’re older and more knowledgeable, you will unravel the secrets of this cosmic mystery.”

As the teacher’s words faded into silence, a sudden movement from the back of the classroom caught her attention. One of the children, a young girl named Valentina, had risen from her seat, her gaze fixed upon the empty expanse of the blackboard.

A collective gasp swept through the room as Mrs. Robertson observed Valentina’s peculiar behavior. The girl’s eyes seemed to penetrate the very surface of the board, her expression betraying a sense of profound unease.

“Valentina?” Mrs. Robertson inquired sharply, her authority momentarily shaken by the child’s unsettling demeanor.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Valentina remained unresponsive, her gaze unwavering, her body trembling slightly. Then, without warning, she collapsed to the floor, her movements resembling those of a marionette abruptly severed from its strings. The children watched in horror as Valentina writhed uncontrollably, her body contorting in a grim ballet of involuntary spasms.

The classroom erupted into a cacophony of frightened cries as the children scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with panic. Mrs. Robertson, her composure momentarily shattered, rushed to Valentina’s side, her heart pounding in her chest.

As the children continued to wail and tremble, Mrs. Robertson’s mind reeled with confusion and fear. The enigma of the ‘Rain of Reinmuth’ seemed to have spilled over from the depths of space, invading her classroom and disrupting the delicate balance of her authority.