Flash Fiction Competition 2017
In the corner of the field, there is one Rose left amongst the wasteland of debris and ruin.
Sharp gusts of wind and a torrents of rain sweep through the area. She grows colder, weaker as the days pass.
The stunning whiteness will wane with every passing day. She will reach out to the sun but it is no longer there. Her thin petals are made dim by the suffocating plumes of smoke as she gasps for air.
And when the snow comes to numb her every pain, her petals will fall into the fountain below.
It was on a night flight from Calgary to Belfast. They flew in what seemed like a never-ending sky of midnight blue, decorated with faint glimmers from the stars. Then, for the millionth time, he and his co-pilot and were reminded yet again, of the earth’s resplendence. Without notice, a green glow began to fill the horizon. The aurora borealis had begun.
The green light seemingly danced across the night sky as it slowly faded into a dark azure. It transformed into an oscillation of pink, illuminating the darkness with its multitude of vibrant hues. They were marvelled by the utter splendour of a display that seemed more fantastical than real. Effortlessly overshadowing even the best of fireworks, its silent crescendo of colour was simply sublime.
It was the last flight he ever piloted.
I underwent my yearly medical and when I got the diagnosis, there was one line that I read at least ten times; Inability...