Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.
The first volley of doom went unnoticed: a fleck of paint broke free from the prestige’s dome. Or largely unnoticed. Sheralin watched wide-eyed as the scrape tumbled down the building until she lost it amid the bustling crowd.
She grabbed her mother’s skirts and tugged. Her mother waved her hand, breaking Sheralin’s grip. Reaching up again, she pulled more firmly.
“Sheralin, sweetest, I’m talking.” Her mother smiled but her voice carried her annoyance. “Why don’t you run along and play.” She gestured to the children running about the square.
Sheralin scowled as her mother yanked her skirts free again. She didn’t try to retake them and watched instead as more flecks tumbled free. At the dome’s top stood a man.
Sheralin glanced at her mother who ignored her once more. She had told Sheralin to go but not specifically were. Turning, she toddled across the square, into the prestige, and up the stairs to the dome.
Only brief gazes were cast in her direction before the adults returned to their conversations, her presence easily and quickly forgotten.
But not to the man at the top. “Hello, Sheralin,” he said not bothering to turn from where he stood with lifted arms. “You see, don’t you?”
She turned away and gazed into the distance. The approaching storm. Ash in the sky. Slowly she nodded.
He sighed. “A heavy burden, but shall we see what we can do?”
Sheralin turned from the sky and held out her hand to him. “Yes,” she whispered.
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