Flash Fiction, Shorts

The Fall

The city burned, fire lighting up the night sky.

Some tried to run. Some panicked and screamed as they were caught or crushed or burned. He watched them running from above, high up on a ledge. The were so small from up here, and looked like little ants to him.

He felt the wind blowing through his hair, and breathed in a deep, refreshing breath, paying careful attention to the air as it filled his lungs. It tasted metallic and stale. Dust caught in his throat and he coughed, wincing. He looked around from his vantage point and watched as the city crumbled from the blasts. The whine of approaching bombers reached his ears, and he saw their shapes in the distance growing larger.

Without another thought, he launched himself in the air and spread his arms wide. He wasn’t long for this world, and wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

The wind tore through his hair and clawed at his face, and he wore a grin the whole way down.

 

 

 

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