Behind The Artificial Sun Lies A Colossal Entity Humanity Has Been Feeding For Centuries
Galactic HorrorsShow Notes
For fourteen years, Hadley has driven a sixty-ton locomotive across magnetic rails suspended over a void, always one mistake from death.
Burn too hot, and the ancient orbital fortresses lock on. Burn too cold, and the locomotive loses the rail. Between those limits, Hadley’s crew shovels radioactive pitch into an open firebox while their bodies slowly fail.
Then a dying brakeman, a dimming artificial sun, and a forgotten switching tower expose a truth Spindle Citadel has buried for generations. Safer fuel exists. The fortresses are not malfunctioning. And the rail network reaches far beyond the maps the workers are allowed to see.
With rival citadels turning on each other and Hadley carrying his own death beneath his skin, one hidden line offers the only road toward answers: the abandoned infrastructure where the sun itself was built.
To follow it, Hadley and his crew must trust inherited knowledge no administrator understands, cross rails littered with the dead, and decide how much of the system that is killing them is still worth saving.
🔗 Official Links:
The only place to get daily and bonus Galactic Horrors stories with no ads or interruptions is Patreon:
📡 Join Patreon: https://patreon.com/GalacticHorrors
Galactic Horrors stories are also available as eBooks on Amazon, with new releases every week:
📚 eBooks: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0H2F5M2B3/allbooks
📖 Written by Galactic Horrors
⚠️ Content Ownership Notice
All stories, artwork, thumbnails, and animations featured on this channel are original creations of Galactic Horrors. I do not accept or feature submissions from other creators. Unauthorized reproduction, redistribution, or re-uploading of any content from this channel, in any form, is strictly prohibited and constitutes a violation of copyright. Legal action may be taken against any parties found infringing these rights.
📜 Fictional Work Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. The events, characters, and organizations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any references to governmental bodies, entities, or individuals are not intended to represent reality. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life events or organizations is purely coincidental.
#scifi #scifihorror #creepypasta
Disclosure: This episode includes AI-generated elements. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
More from Galactic Horrors
Two winters ago, something escaped from the laboratory at a secret army research station deep in the northern pines. The scientists vanished the same night. Officially, they are away on fieldwork, and the army now fills the station with punished men.
Every time the truck stops, whoever is standing nearest its back doors begins to slow. Words drag. Faces sag. Then they fall flat and sink into the asphalt, and they keep sinking.
For twenty-two years, an aging captain has fished the rings of a sea that drains endlessly into a vast hole past the horizon, where the catch grows richer the closer a boat dares to go. Each time he comes up short, the cannery that owns his trawler rivets another iron plate to her bow, and the newest one now sits at the waterline. One more short season will cost him his boat.
For two decades he has torn apart dead frontier colonies, and each one died of something he could dig up: a bad well, a burst dam, a hillside that came down in the dark. Every one except the farm town where half the town slid sideways across flat ground overnight and stopped as neatly as a train at a platform.
For eight years, a sapper sergeant has walked down into fresh bomb craters at first light and signed them closed. On the siege world of Bracken, six-ton spikes dropped from orbit cave in the tunnels of a burrowing enemy, and his signature certifies the ground has fallen. Every crater he signs is a piece of the war that is over.