Today, on Drabble Wednesday, I take flight in words...
The airship drifted over the battlefield, wisps of smoke from charred remains rising to greet it. The ground below reflected death: scorched and trampled grass, gouged dirt and mud, and the tattered corpses of soldiers rotting in the sun.
The ship wandered aimlessly, the sputtering groan of its engine the only sound, save the hiss of wind. Below, silence swallowed the world, the once deafening boom of artillery quiet, guns rusting and useless. The ship flew over lifeless terrain, the fight done with no victory.
Still it flew on, its crew now dead, waiting for the fuel to run out.
I’m standing on the precipice, the sun at my back. Behind me are a scattering of my instructors and fellow students, waiting in anticipation. I simply have to step off the edge.
Such a deed hasn’t been attempted in decades, not since my particular mutation ceased manifesting itself. I was quite the surprise.
I’m the first one in eighty years.
They’ve done their best to prepare me, but they can only guess what will happen. If something goes wrong...
Failure means death. Still...
I stretch my wings to their full glory and step off the cliff.
“Has the sun set? It seems dark.”
“Yes, the sun has set for you, David.”
“Who’s there? I can’t see well. It’s so dark.”
“I’m an old friend, you have yet to meet. But don’t be afraid. You will come to me quietly, in your own time.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will soon. We will ascend the universe together, David. To the celestial light and the comforting wonder of creation.”
David’s answer came with the exhalation of his last breath.
With a sigh, the Angel of Death wrapped David’s soul in his arms.
They flew to the stars beyond heaven.
© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved