Raymond Alexander Kukkee
He clutched the metal container tightly to his chest as the
subway car rattled into the yellow-tiled station. The swaying made him
nauseous. He began to sweat.
"Fadniicker Street Station is the only one with high-speed pass-through directly over the
valley after rush hour". He could hear his father's voice.
"The west end of
the station, It has to be there, the 7:01, promise me! Put me there!" The voice
haunted him.
"I promise!" he whispered vehemently, thinking out
loud as the brakes screamed. The door
opened.
He stood motionless on the platform, waiting, but not for
long. He loosened the lid.
The high-speed west-bound carried the shiny metal container
and dead man, spreading a cloud of ashes into the brilliant sunlight over the
valley.
#
Is that Incoming I hear?
"Ashes" with a word count of 125 squeaks neatly into Red's M3 Flash Fiction Challenge limit of 125.
This left me ashen faced. Great job as alway, Raymond!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the kind compliments, Mac, it seems flash fiction always leaves something on the mind or on our faces--hopefully nothing too gross...":) ~R
DeleteOh those last wishes.
ReplyDeleteHi Storm, sometimes they're bad stuff aren't they-one never knows. Thanks for commenting! ":) ~R
DeleteA wish that was granted
ReplyDeleteand what a backdrop for
such a wish...
Nicely orchestrated my friend...
Androgoth
I suppose this might be considered horror in some ways, Androgoth? Last wishes hold a lot of power over people. Thanks for the great compliments and visiting! ~R
Delete