Star Wars - Short Story Prompts

PROMPT: THE EMPIRE + FEAR

A sharp clip of Imperial boots against the floor.

A rhythmic clacking of armor and weapons against each other.

Two Death troopers entered first, blasters poised with steady march, gleaming black like pristine messengers of ill will. They spoke a sharp, incomprehensible language that blared through vocoders without so much as a tilt of a head, a slight of gait.

You felt your blood turn to ice.

They marched past as quickly as they had barged in.

Behind them, a flash of billowing white.

Darth Vader was a black hole.

A tear, a fissure in space of monstrous proportions.

A black hole that had swallowed galaxies, stars, planets, life.

They described an icy sort of dread when they looked at him. As though they were gazing into the abyss. In his gleaming visor, they saw nothing.

Yet in the depths of the darkness, the fires of Mustafar still burned bright. A singularity of rage. It was deathly silent wrath that consumed him.

It brewed, it swirled under the blackness, giving the fissure mass, giving it gravity, making it grow, consuming all that came across its path.

To those who were dragged inside:

His Hell awaited them.

One day, something blotted out the sun.

Everyone had rushed outside, halted, and were hushed into silence as they looked up at the sky.

Astrology, perhaps, had predicted this. Conspiracy.

The day stars would align had been carefully conducted. The day celestial bodies would collide, strategically planned. The day the world would end, politically fueded.

The Death Star, engineered by the new gods.

It eclipsed the light. It was an all-seeing eye.

Chaos erupted. They ran for their lives, fell to their knees, prayed to their heavens.

The pupil filled with shining green light. 

The Senator had become the Senate.

His New Republic had consumed all.

Perhaps he was never human. Bloodthirst hidden beneath lies as he whispered machination into the ears of the galaxy's finest.

Prodigous children with infinite fears turned to a kindly face. A world entrenched in civil war found hope in a Chancellor's words. A bureaucracy torn by indecision gained purpose through a Sith lord.

Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength.

Power was his. His word was law. His body was one of a thousand Star Destroyers.

Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory.

The Emperor.

Through victory, my chains are broken.

The Force shall free me.