Anna Sokolova

Another piece for my personal project "Koldworld".
The biting winter wind whipped snow across the desolate landscape. A solitary figure emerged from the twisted metal of a crashed spacecraft. The force of impact had been immense, throwing debris for hundreds of meters. Anna's yellow suit, a beacon of a bygone era, felt utterly alien here. She clutched a service revolver Nagant, its metallic gleam reflecting the pale winter sun. Her mission, a journey intended to be a triumph of human exploration, had returned her to an unrecognizable homeland. The familiar Soviet Union she had left behind was gone. No cities glow on the horizon. No signs of life break the white void. This was not the homecoming she had envisioned. Anna raised the revolver slightly, a gesture of caution, not aggression. Her eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of life, any explanation for this profound devastation. The wreckage of her capsule offered no comfort, only a reminder of how far she had traveled, both in space and in time. The cold seeped through the suit, a chill that mirrored the emptiness of her surroundings. Anna spent many years in orbit. Suspended animation, they called it back then. No dreams. No time passing. Now she wakes to this nightmare.