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Observe the airport. Does it excite thoughts of travel? Returns home to family and friends? Or something else all together? Post your Friday fiction writings in the comments. Remember, 100 words is all you need.
I’ll start with a story …
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As I checked the board for my flight from JFK to Billings, the lights went out. Then cell phones failed. Cars rolled to a stop.
And planes fell from the sky.
I was just here for college yet I knew these people would panic in the time it took to empty every market.
Dad had rented a space within walking distance.
As I changed and checked out the highly illegal contents of my bugout bag, I blessed his cantankerous self who made childhood into bootcamp. Montana was a long walk, but I planned on thanking him when I got there.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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feature image from Pixabay
[…] via Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge — Victory Girls Blog […]
Fletch says: Act innocent and they’ll think you are innocent. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t smile. Don’t stand out. Just keep your head down, walk straight, and no one will notice.
She wanted to clutch the bag to her chest, or throw it away, or run through customs as quick as she could, but she didn’t. Right here, right here – still on this side of the turnstile, she hadn’t broken any law. As soon as she walked through to the other side, she had.
Slowly she walked forward. One of the guards noticed her and smiled, she did not smile back.
wyldkat says: The boards showed over 5 dozen flights and their status. To the left was the airport, to the right the Fast Track to the spaceport. One way took me home, the other to someplace new.
People swirled around me, some hurrying to their flights others just going about their lives as I studied the board reading the alien script. Did I want the safety and security or did I want something new, maybe challenging; either way, once I decided there was no turning back.
Andrew says: The Paris to Copenhagen train leaves in 5 minutes.
My college boyfriend had insisted on a trip after graduation before we started his new life at a bank in New York: A week in London, a week in Paris.
London was a parallel universe where my alternate self was suddenly rising from below the surface. The boyfriend crushed that: “just a modern city and some museums,” he summarized. As to Paris: “nice cafes, lots of art” was all he had to say.
Our flight to New York leaves today. He’s probably still asleep, dreaming of checking in and walking through security.
I’ll text him from the train.
Stephen Miller says: She blinked and squinted under the lights. “This is…not what I expected.”
The figure beside her shrugged. “It never is.”
She turned her head, but somehow couldn’t concentrate on the other for more than a second. “What happens now? Where do I go?”
A hand rested on her shoulder. “It’s right there on the board, see?”
“Oh, yeah.” Sure enough, there was her name. After a few seconds it scrolled sideways to reveal a destination. “Really? I…I get to go there?”
“The big board never lies. Go on, now – unless you really believe you deserve eternity in an airport.”
Gate six, and I shall meet a total stranger, confidentially recommended by a single member of the medical study team, as very important to my future well-being. In this cutting-edge medical metropolis, I survived by birth, a tragic accident which took the lives of my parents, there the study took place. Two years ago, I lost both my foster parents and a melancholy I’ve always felt led me to the study invitation.
Passengers arriving, my poster, out of my pack, anxious but ready.
Incredible! Mutually astonished! No poster needed! We run, embrace, weep, sisters! Identical twins, implausibly re-united, hopefully peace!
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