It is now mid-October 2020, and although sat close to a crackling fire, I'm still shivering. All I could think about was the new Mistress of Flash Fictions and the demands she'd bestowed upon her unsuspecting subjects. In the first month, we were to wear our fingers to the bone, writing eight stories of one hundred words. The irony is spellbinding, as I sit here watching one hundred meteors, per hour, arrive from the Gemini Constellation, repeatedly bombarding the Earth's atmosphere. Suddenly I understand she is not our Mistress, but a bright new star, burning brightly in the night sky. 

F/N: Stuff the contest, I am just dedicating my Week 1 Sci-Fi stories as a welcome to @MysteriousDryad