The sound of distant thunder could be heard on the deserted powdery playground.
Snow prints littered the scene.
In the early light of day everything was deadly silent. Deadly was indeed the proper word to describe what happened. Deadly because the technology of that world went spinning out of control and now nothing remains.
One could imagine the fun the children had running without a childly care of what tomorrow would bring. The parents sitting on park benches watching with parental pride the little ones who one day would rule the world.
But that was yesterday. That world does not exist.
Footprints are all that remain of that world.
After all, it was just an experiment.
The next one we create will be a better place to inhabit. Let’s rethink that evolution thing again.
According to the dashboard clock on his car it was 7:09 p.m. when he entered the motel parking lot. He had driven over 400 miles today and he was weary. Even the sunset looked dull to his tired eyes.
Their marriage had been deteriorating for the last year so it didn’t surprise him when she ordered him to leave their home early this morning.
He took out his cell phone. No new calls or messages. He realized that he did not know if that was bad or good. He knew one thing. She had expressed her anger by flinging his phone across the room where it hit with a dull thunk against the kitchen cabinet.
The phone had caused his troubles. He had left it home when he went for his morning walk. Upon returning his wife informed him he had a message, which she had overheard, from Pauline, describing in detail their last time in bed.
The interviews started promptly at 8 p.m. in Peet’s Café in Beverly Hills. Each interview scheduled to run from three to eight minutes.
It was now 9:30 p.m. and Kitty had already interviewed 17 potential dates. Feedback was expected from participants usually after one or two days. Numbers one thru sixteen were all losers. Charlie who never stopped talking about himself. Earl who resembled her uncle Phil. Jesus who was a boy toy and knew it. Yuck!
But then came George. Number 18! Not only was he good-looking but was a writer and a painter. Well that’s what he said anyway and she was getting damn tired going from table to table. A little nod of the head from her and he understood.
Son of a bitch could have taken the car. Big fat BMW parked in that massive five car garage would have been a much better choice. If you ask me that is. Of course I’m only a horse and what do I know. Horse sense right? Don’t think so bucko! My jackwagon owners elevator doesn’t go to the top floor as they say.
And riding through a rain storm no less. Jeeze Louise give me a friggin break! At least he had the sense to take the saddle off me when he went inside to his fancy smantzy party. How long does he plan to stay in there and play coy with Ms. Karen. I know what he wants from her and it ain’t her hand.
Well hello Baltimore; he might just be in for a rough ride back to the old stable tonight. You think?
This post is written for FFfAW (Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers).
Alfred knew it was time to leave.
Eleven years in a dead end job was enough. He was still single. He rented an old house his uncle owned. In fact he lived next door to his uncle. The winters were getting unbearable. This, plus the fact he had taken two weeks vacation last February and spent it in Arizona. He realized he was a huge bore.
So on July 1st he held a going away party where three of his friends showed up to say goodby. His mother and father were invited but did not attend.
So he got everything he owned and rented a four by six trailer and headed to Tucson Arizona. Empty beer cans fell off the rear bumper of the trailer as he sped away on his new adventure.
This post is written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. This is a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less) and each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Sonya O. My story follows the picture prompt.
So there you are big brother.
The one I always despised. Hell “hated” is a more descriptive adjective.
Wonder what you looked like when you died. Wrinkled like me?
Mommy always gave you everything while I had to work my buns off to just get by.
That’s why I never talked to you for the last fifty years.
Fifty frigging years Albert! You made my life hell buddy just thinking about your success.
Oh, and my failure now that I think about it.
You did one thing right big guy. You married a wonderful women. Too bad she left you for me. Hope that didn’t have anything to do with your nasty exit from this world.