“Missiles over the Atlantic. Headed this way. You gonna do this or not?” I asked myself.
The door was locked but I knew the code. The commander was on the other side.
“Turn around. Hands up,” I said.
He looked over his shoulder. “Six warheads are armed and ready to fly. Put down your weapon.”
His hand slipped towards the holster on his belt. “Who are you, anyway?
“The janitor. Night shift,” I said, and shot him.
Way I see it, one life here’s worth a couple million over there.
The photo below reminded me of a nuclear explosion for some reason. Anyway…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.
I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer. The weekly photo that inspired this story is below: