Random stories created by an ai named dreamily

A Spaceship Story

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A spaceship , a ship flying by itself and without any crew, is flying across the starry night sky. No one would believe it if they were told what happened, but this was actually just another day in the life of a person called Michael Kean.
He was sitting on the edge of his bunk with his knees pulled to his chest, staring at a blank canvas on his wall. He didn't have any art work done so this had become his way of keeping himself entertained.
He sighed as he ran his fingers through his messy black hair. It's been six days since he last saw anyone. Six days and not a single trace or sign of another human being. And that scared him more than anything. Because now everyone is gone and he's all alone. Alone with the memories of what used to be good people in his life.
He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to steady himself. This wasn'a helping. Not right now anyway. He looked back up to his painting again, but it didn't look quite the same anymore. So he threw it on the ground, kicking it away until there was nothing left but the frame and canvas.
Michael let out an exhausted sigh, standing and walking over to his bed. He sat down heavily on the edge, staring out of the window at the stars shining in the darkness above him. He couldn't remember ever seeing stars so bright and clear.
"It's too bright," Michael said softly as he stared off into space.
He leaned forward and placed his head in his hands, thinking hard. What if it went back to before? What if he lost everything when they died? Would it start up again then? What if...
No, Michael, you can't think like this! You're still here and you won't go anywhere because no one has ever been able to leave the galaxy and never come back again.
Michael stood from his position and walked over to his desk, where he had some sketchbooks lying around, looking for something to focus on.
His eye caught on one of the sketches he did of the universe. The one with the beautiful nebula and glowing planets floating around. It wasn't much, but it helped him forget that he felt so empty. It helped him feel somewhat better, even though he knew that it wouldn't last long. That feeling would soon fade, only to be replaced by the cold emptiness again.
The loneliness settled deeper as he looked at the picture again. But this time, something was different about the nebula. Something about it was different. He couldn't put his finger on it, but maybe that's what made it feel different to him. It was probably just something in his mind, but he'a determined to figure it out. He could draw it all he wanted, but he'd never get the chance to do that again.
He picked up the sketchbook and returned to his place by the window, flipping to the next page as he started drawing the nebula again. It felt like it had changed, somehow. As Michael drew it, he realized that it looked exactly the same, but the nebula looked a bit brighter. Maybe that was the difference he was looking for, or maybe it just really was a trick of the light. Either way, Michael was determined to find out what made it special to him this time.
And so, he continued to draw the nebula over and over, until he finally remembered why he was drawing it in the first place.
When he finished the last line, he held the paper in front of him and studied it carefully. It was perfect! It was the closest thing to perfection he could give someone after losing them forever. He smiled slightly as he thought about how happy he was that he got it right, knowing that he'a never going to draw it again. He tossed it aside and turned to the next page, ready to try and draw a star instead of the nebula.
As he worked on making new lines, the familiar ache in his heart came back. Why does it hurt so much? He didn't understand it. Why was he so angry and upset? Did he have a crush on someone who isn't dead anymore? Did he just miss them so much that he forgot everything else? Is that why he's so bitter?
But there are plenty of answers to those questions. If only he could ask them. But there'a none of them that make him feel better.
As he drew, he began to wonder.
Maybe...maybe I'm lonely.
He stopped drawing to consider the thought for a moment. Yes, that sounded pretty close to what he was feeling. He decided that it had to be the case. Everyone else seemed happy. How could they be happy with everything that has happened, especially if they knew what he did?
Then again, no one knew except for him. They wouldn't be able to tell. After all, they've never met him before. There were no records of him in their system. No birth certificate, no school record, not even a driver's license. His real name was written out for him, but it was never used in his file. In fact, there weren't many things about his past that he didn't know.
So who was he? He didn't have a family. He had nobody. Nobody who loved him. Nobody who needed him. Nobody who would miss him when he went missing.
Why is it that he feels so...alone?