I don't know if this message will make it through. None of the previous ones ever have. Despite that we always keep trying, a futile effort it seems at times, but there's nothing better we can do. I always hope that one day at least one of our messages will get past whatever control over reality those creatures have.

In the event that my words do make it back to Earth, then I want to warn you all what is going on up here. Space is not what you think it is. There is no beauty here, only horrors. I first learned this during my first trip to space, more than a decade ago during the old Space Shuttle days.

I was an excited member of the Astronaut Corp back then, happy to know that I finally got picked for my first space mission. I wanted nothing more than to explore mankind's final frontier and contribute to further research up there. At the time I thought I was honored to be among the few to get to space. But now, I feel like I'm one of the few cursed to see hell and forget about it.

It was when our Shuttle excited the atmosphere that I first knew something was wrong. Our mission commander, a veteran of two previous Shuttle missions at the time, was the first to tell me that something was wrong.

Since I was the Shuttle pilot at the time, he and I sat at the front of the flight deck, with the forward windows right in front of us. As I was busy checking my instrument panel, making sure that we were on course and pushing strongly for a proper orbit, I heard my commander let out a curse, with a sound of panic that I have never heard from him before.

"Fuck." He exclaimed, making me look up from my task and glance at him. "I remember them. "I remember them again."

Confused at this, I turned my head forward to see what I was looking at. As I did so I felt my heart drop, as all the air from my lungs seemed to have quickly exited me. I had expected to see the dark void of space sprinkled with stars. However, what I saw was a blood red background with large distant orbs dotting it. Frozen in shock, I couldn’t help but just stare at this terrible sight, as my eyes drifted to observe the distant orbs.

Staring at them I quickly realized that each of the orbs resembled eyes. Distant floating eyes, unblinking and seemingly staring directly at me. I felt a chill run down my spine as I stared at them and felt them gaze into my very soul. It was very unnerving and I tried to look away from them. However, no matter where I looked they were always there. They were everywhere. Just how we see stars down on Earth, these eyes littered the blood red expanse.

Observing them and noting their size, I felt more fear build up inside of me as I realized how big they looked. If they were indeed distant objects light years away from us, then their size must be gigantic if I was able to see their pupils through my own Mk. 1 eyeballs. This thought always makes me terrified, especially when I wonder if they are just individual eyes or a part of a greater creature that we cannot see.

Soon enough our crewmates behind us began to catch their first glances of the space around us and their reaction was the same as mine, complete speechless fear. For a good few minutes we remained silent. We were speechless and just stared at the horror around us. No matter where we looked, no matter which window we gazed at, there was nothing but a blood red background and humongous unsettling eyes filling our view.

It was only when the crew on the windowless mid-deck began calling out to us did we snap out of our trance. Strapped to their seats down there, they were unable to see what we saw.

The commander, regaining some of his composure, managed to reply to them, as he returned to his task of making sure the shuttle was properly heading to orbit. This surprised me as I had thought that he would instead contact Houston and tell them to abort the mission. Encountering hell in space was not a condition for an abort in our manuals, but I would like to think that it was proper grounds for one.

“I need you guys to get up here on the flight deck once we’re safely in orbit. There is something here you need to see.” The commander told the crew at the mid-deck.

“What is it, commander?” One of our crewmates down there asked.

“It’s hard to explain. Just get up here when I tell you too.”

“Roger that.”

With that done he then turned to me and told me to focus back on my duties. Dumbfounded, I hesitated and asked him if he wasn’t going to contact Houston and tell them what we were seeing. His reply made me suddenly feel even more terrified than I already was.

“There’s no use. They won’t hear it. Whatever we say to describe what we’re seeing, they either hear something else or don’t hear us at all.”

“But surely there must be something we can do to tell them about this?” I insisted.

“There’s nothing that can be done. There’s something preventing the people back on Earth from learning what we’re seeing here. Because if there wasn’t, then they would have seen the same thing we’re seeing on the Shuttle’s live feed cameras and contacted us about it already.”

With that said I suddenly felt hopeless, as I watched us get higher and closer to the hellscape of space. A few minutes later the Shuttle was in orbit.

Once everyone was in the flightdeck, jampacked in the confined space, and once everyone had let out the horrible sickly feeling of panic and fear within them, the commander began explaining to us what he knew.

He then explained that we were trapped here until our mission was over.

The same force preventing the people on Earth from learning of the true horror of space also prevented us from escaping this hell until we were scheduled to return back to Earth. We aren't exactly sure why, but we believe that it's most likely because an early return would break the illusion that nothing was wrong.

It was the same reason why he didn’t remember the horrors of space he encountered back in his first mission up here. Somehow, the unknown force erased his memories the moment he re-entered Earth’s atmosphere.

Of course, we didn't believe the commander at first. We were too frightened at what we saw and wanted to escape it as soon as possible. Hoping that he was wrong, but dreading he was right, we tried to conduct the procedure that would deorbit the Shuttle and bring us back home. But we couldn't. Our bodies wouldn't allow it.

I don’t know how it does it, but no matter how hard we will ourselves to do a return, this unseen force prevents our bodies from doing so.

Feeling violated by an unseen strong force, our bodies moved against our will and prevented us from returning to Earth. In fact, instead of conducting deorbiting procedures, our bodies pushed us to conduct our scheduled duties and soon enough instead of going down we found ourselves raising our orbit to intercept the ISS, just like the original mission plan.

We despaired at this and felt trapped both in space and in our bodies. When Houston contacted us to give us instructions and updates, we would desperately reply with cries for help and warnings about what we were seeing. However, instead of acknowledging our messages, they would either reply with something unrelated to what we said or not reply at all. It was hopeless, there was nothing we could do but continue with the mission and anxiously wait for what horrors lay ahead of us.

Throughout this time, I couldn’t help but keep on glancing out at the expanse and at the various eyes. Each time I did so I couldn’t help but feel terrified, yet at the same time entranced. After that moment there was no doubt in my mind that those eyes were indeed staring back at me.

However, as I was staring at the distant eyes, I couldn’t help but notice something zip fast in front of me. For a second, I thought it was a micrometeorite or perhaps space debris that was still orbiting around the planet. But, after another one zoomed in front of the Shuttle, I realized that it had the distinct shape of a human.

Having noticed it too, and seeing my shocked and confused expression, the commander tapped me and began to explain what he remembered about them.

“Those are the lost spacemen.” He told me. “At least, that’s what we called them when I was last up here.”

“The lost spacemen?” I inquired.

“Yes.” He said with a nod. “I remember encountering them before when I was last up. I remember seeing them zoom past the Shuttle every so often back then. From what we observe through the windows and cameras, we saw that they are wearing broken and breached spacesuits from various space programs, from different eras and different nations. My best guess is that these are astronauts and cosmonauts who encountered problems in space and couldn’t return back to Earth and because of that the unknown force that mocks us erased any memory of them to those down below.”

“Are they still alive?” I asked.

“No. From what we had observed, through the tears and holes on their helmets and suits, they seem dead. Yet, somehow, their bodies still can move and when our orbits intersect they latch on to your spacecraft and don’t let go unless you force them off. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of them out there, all lost and forgotten. It’s impossible not to intercept a couple dozen of them every twenty-four hours.”

I nodded slowly upon hearing this, as I thought that such a faith sounded terrible. Humanity has launched probably thousands of crews into space and yet they are forgotten because of the force that tried to keep the secret of space’s horrors hidden to those on Earth.

“So what do they want? Why are they grabbing onto passing spacecraft?” Asked one of my crewmates who sat behind me. “Do their lifeless bodies want to be rescued?”

The commander paused for a moment and started thinking, as if trying to recall a memory hidden deep within his mind. “They’re hungry. I remember one of them grabbing onto my crewmate back then and bit into his spacesuit until flesh and blood was gushing out. They want food.”

With that we remained silent. At first we had thought that the horrors we saw in space were far away. However, now we knew that they were a lot closer than we expected.

Hours after reaching orbit, our Shuttle was soon approaching the International Space Station. Looking at it through the cockpit window, I saw something that I was not expecting. The ISS up in orbit is different from what we saw from the images back on Earth. Instead of the clean modular station that is always shown, what I saw was a rundown looking orbiting habitat, with many damaged sections and red blood-like material coating vast sections of its outer walls.

The inside of the station was no better. After docking with the station, we were soon greeted by the current expeditionary crew manning it. Tired and seemingly on the brink of their sanity, these astronauts looked like they had been through a lot. Some of them even had bruises and scars on their bodies and I was too scared to ask how they got them.

Due to the size of the station, and due to its design, the ISS made a perfect net to capture many of the lost spacemen that drifted in their various orbits. Because of this many of the lost spacemen would grab onto the various handles on the outer hull that was normally used by the crew for spacewalks. Latched onto the handles with a surprisingly strong grip, they would stay there and bang on the hull, with the sound echoing throughout the interior and keeping many of us awake during the night. They knocked on the hull non-stop and it almost gave us no time to think as the constant sound could be heard wherever we went.

For the next fifteen days we stayed in the station, doing what we could to help maintain it. It’s not like we had a choice, our bodies would do it by themselves even if our mind’s didn’t want to. During our free time, however, some of us from the Shuttle would do our best to record what was happening. Taking pictures of the red void and its staring eyes, writing down our experiences both on paper and in the computers, we did our best to try and preserve what we saw up here.

However, the commander, and the other astronauts who had been to space more than once, dismissed our efforts. They told us that it was no use. They then explained that whatever we recorded would eventually be erased and our memories about these events completely be wiped out until we return back to space.

Despite their warnings we still continued. We didn’t want to feel completely hopeless. Maybe, just maybe, one message, one picture, one recording may slip through.

After fifteen days in the station we were finally scheduled to return home. Two members of the ISS crew were also scheduled to return with us, and I remember seeing the relief and joy in their faces as they got ready to return home. However, two members of the crew that came with us were scheduled to stay on the ISS until the next Shuttle mission to it. The thought of staying for a few more months in that station disheartened them greatly and I don’t remember seeing them throughout our last few hours before undocking.

I felt sorry for them, but I’m ashamed to admit that I felt happier knowing that I was finally going to get away from the horrors of space. As we deorbited and prepared to re-enter the atmosphere, only one thought filled my mind. I would never again return to space.

Yet I did, because I couldn’t remember.

Writing this now, I remember how obviously excited I was to return to space. I wish I could have found a way to warn myself. I wish I could have remembered.

Back down on Earth I had longed for a return to space. Not remembering the eyes, not remembering the lost spacemen, my thoughts were filled with only false memories of an enjoyable time up here. Recalling these memories now, I am amazed how such detailed events could have been implanted in my head and passed off as the truth.

With these false memories in my head, I unknowingly worked hard to get another seat back up here. For years I strived for something I didn’t know I had sworn to never return to. All that hard word eventually got me a seat, as I ended up being selected to go back to the ISS on board a Crew Commercial Spacecraft. Assigned as a mission specialist, I was to assist the station in conducting zero gravity science and installing new equipment to the exterior of the station.

It was only when I got out of the atmosphere that my true memories of my last time up here returned, as I suddenly felt dread and fear wash over my whole soul and mind. Strapped into the spacecraft propelled itself into orbit, I stared at the screen that displayed images of the external cameras. There I saw the red blood void of space. There I saw the eyes staring back at me. There I saw the silhouettes of the lost spacemen zipping by.

When we finally docked at the station and boarded it, one thought kept circling in my mind. My first spacewalk.

I didn’t want to do it. I knew that to go out there was to risk myself becoming prey to the lost spacemen that were clinging on the hull of the station. But how could I avoid it? My body will go against my will and do what I was scheduled to do, because this hell wants us to maintain its facade.

So despite help from my crewmates, who did their best to restrain me and Brian Anderson, the other astronaut scheduled to do the spacewalk with, our bodies pushed on and slipped into the spacesuit. The next thing I knew I was opening the hatch that led us outside to the vacuum of space.

If the red canvas and staring eyes looked frightening from within a spacecraft or the station, it looked ten times more terrifying when you’re floating in a spacesuit made out of nothing but thick layers of nylon, synthetic polymer, and spandex. I thought that I would freeze right there from fear. But the unknown force pushed me on and made me exit the hatch and begin the exhausting task of hauling myself and suit towards the new equipment to be installed.

I didn’t get far however. Within our first few minutes out there we were attacked by at least three lost spacemen. One going for Brian and two going for me.

Trying my best to distance myself from the approaching forms, I desperately grabbed onto the handles on the station’s hull and moved as fast as I could to get away from them. During this chase one of the lost spacemen managed to slip, as they missed one of the handles and ended up drifting away from the station.

However, the other one was still on my tail and closing fast. Moving faster than I could get away from it, the creature’s gloved hand managed to grab hold on to my leg. Desperately trying to break free, I found that its grip on me was too strong. Looking towards it and shining my suit’s light on the creature that held me, I stared at an old Gemini-era EVA suit that kept a firm hold on my leg. During that brief moment, I noticed that the helmet of the suit was bashed open and that inside it was a skeleton.

Heart raising fast, I felt my body shake as the creature tugged at me and tried to pull it closer to itself. With each pull I could feel its grip on my leg become tighter and tighter until it reached a point that I started to feel numb there.

Desperate, I began to kick the top of its helmet with my free leg. But this turned out to be a mistake, because as I did this my foot slipped into the hole in its helmet and I suddenly felt a sharp searing pain. It had bit me.

At that moment I thought it was my end, as the sharp teeth of the skeleton penetrated my suit and plunged into my skin. With each passing second I could feel the pressure increase, as its teeth punctured flesh, fat, and muscle.

Feeling the pain soar through me, I thought that I was on the brink of passing out. But then, just as I was on the edge of losing consciousness, Brian came to my rescue.

Managing to get next to the creature, Brian took out one of the tools he had with him for the installation and slammed it on the helmet of the creature. This was enough for it to loosen its grip on me. As it finally let me go, Brian then shoved the creature away with all his strength, making it drift out into the red void.

The next few minutes were then spent by me and Brian slowly making our way back to the hatch and into the station. For some reason our body’s urge to continue the spacewalk and conduct the installation was gone. It would, however, return the next day, as I was forced to conduct a five hour long spacewalk with a wounded leg, whose pain just didn’t seem to stop.

It’s been a week now since I was bitten and my injury seems to be getting worse. Whatever the creature had on it, the bite it gave me seemed to have infected my skin with something, as a black rot seemed to spread from my wound, as my wounds opened up once in a while and depleted me of more and more blood. No form of medical care we know can stop this and at this point I have accepted my faith.

But it doesn't mean I’m not scared, because I’m terrified right now. Once I die here I will be forgotten back on Earth. That is a scary thought and it fills me with existential dread. Every memory of my existence would be wiped away from family and friends back on the planet. It would be as if I had never existed.

Because of that I write my final story in every form I can think of. First as a docx file in my laptop, second on ink in my notebook, and third, right now, with my own blood in my notebook also. With all the blood that spilled out of me, I thought that I might as well put it to use. I also find it poetic to think that my own blood can deliver my final words.

Do I think that any of these three messages will make it back to Earth? No, I don’t. No message from space has ever returned before and I’m not expecting that to change. But it’s at least worth trying, just in case one eventually does. Its a futile effort, but hope is the only thing that keeps us sane up here.

Well, this is where my story ends. I can feel myself becoming weaker with each passing minute. Soon enough I would die and the crew would too my body into the red void, because once my heart stops beating I would eventually become one of those lost spacemen.

Space is a terrible place. If this message ever does reach Earth, then I’m warning you all to stop going up here.

​

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

​

I found this message written in red ink inside a notebook hidden within my personal belongings. The rest of the notebook is empty aside from this message.

At first I thought this was a prank from my crewmates, who must have snuck the notebook with my belongings while we were still up there at the station. However, after mentioning it to them, they just gave me quizzical looks.

I don’t know who wrote this message or if what they are saying is real. As far as I know, none of the events written in it ever happened. I cannot believe something that I know is wrong. However, there’s something telling me that this message was not written in red ink.