Halo, the Martian, sits by the pond he had found us many years ago and knew we wouldn’t harm him he would sit cross-legged staring through the bulrushes his ovoid eyes said it all he wanted to go home our world was too nasty and cold for him.
We first encountered Halo when his scout craft crashed in Turkers Wood twenty three years ago nothing else followed him he came alone, we only began to notice Halo when he projected between the clumps of fauna and the ancient trees in the evening time seemingly alone but busy his nerves frayed he never really made an effort to connect.
He was not fearful of our presences . But we were beginning to exist in a sort of viral demonology people of the world possessed a toxicity that medicine could not attempt to cure, we were confused Halo had always said to us in the wood that the future was much brighter than now and that the sun would light our lives in greater hope one day.
But this hope was dimming and it was Halo’s mournful eyes that told us, in the wood, that our time was limited also. We didn’t have many days to wait for on one cold earth Sunday evening lights came for Halo and he was gone not long after we were gone, the wood and the world was now empty then the the light was turned off only God knows what comes next.