Recently learned that my plane has “mechanical problems” so I might not be getting home as soon as I thought. To put a silver lining on my Detroit airport experience, at least I have time to post my Friday Fictioneers! Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.
Here’s my story this week. I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.
The survivors of the blast had told him about the flash, how lucky they were to make it. They hadn’t, though. They were the walking dead. It just took them a few days to lie down, one by one.
He picked up the old wasp nest and crushed it in his fist, then looked up at the golden figure on the topmost spire of the temple. “I can’t say I believe in you much anymore, Moroni,” he said. “But if you’re really up there, why not give that horn a toot?”
The ground trembled, then lay still.