Last of the First

Can you imagine how it felt? And what it must be like to see your fellow countrymen throw it all away over the years?

Here is my 100 word (on the nose this week) story for Madison Woods’ FridayFictioneers. It’s about an old man alone with his thoughts after hearing a friend has died and realizing he’s the last of his kind still standing.

I’m posting it early because by the time Madison kicks things off it’s midnight on Thursday here and I get hammered trying to keep up. WordPress starts counting hits on its own schedule and I’m trying to beat 180 views. Have to utilize the full 24 hours. There, I’ve gone and exposed myself as a greedy stat monkey. Oh, well. I’m going to try to rock the Casbah anyway. Thanks for reading. Tonight at midnight I’ll add the link for all the other stories by changing the color of the word ‘here‘ to red. Check in and read, comment and post your own story. (I think we’re going to be long on werewolves and such, but hey, there’s a full moon out so what do you expect?)

Aloha,

D.

I remember skip-hopping, my charcoal smudged white boots raising silent dust fans that fall in perfect slow motion parabolic arcs. Shadows deep and dark contrast with the harsh glare of the sun in a starless sky. My suit ventilation system hums in the background of distant and excited radio transmissions.

Even now when I think of her I smell burnt gunpowder and feel the grit on my teeth.

The memory helps this old pilot write and when I see her riding high she reminds me that I once walked on her surface. The vibrations thrum through her core yet..…and mine.