Writing and photography by P. L Cobb
Up, up, up. Carlson ascended into the heavens, passing clouds, passing through the ozone layer. Someone must have seen him on his journey upwards; he wasn’t travelling very fast. That thought quickly turned to other, more important things as the vacuum of space pulled at him. Carlson let out a sigh, knowing that it was his own spell that protected him from a sudden and brutal death.
When he had touched down on the surface of Mars Carlson took out a book-shaped bundle. It was wrapped in a dirty rag; he was grateful for his dulled sense of smell. He buried the bundle in a quickly dug hole, then said a few incantations. When he felt satisfied, Carlson left the red planet.
It’s finished, he said to himself. The gates of the underworld have been shut.