Going Home

Reflections in the glass in front, not five metres away showed the extent of the explosions behind me as the enemy forged down the High street. Where could I run?

copyright:: Marie Gail Straford

copyright:: Marie Gail Straford

How could I get home alive.  If my home still existed.

The sounds were deafening, a kaleidoscope of colour filled the skies all around me, and then all went quiet as if someone hit the mute button.

The reflection now told me all I needed to know; only colour left in the glass, but then added shafts of brightness from above drew me upwards; it was beautuful. I was home.

 

This an 100 word challenge linked to a picture for Friday Fictioneers. for Rochelle.

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About liz2you

Life just happens when you plan something else. 50 years spent in Africa and relevant stories.
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3 Responses to Going Home

  1. Nan Falkner says:

    Dear Liz, Very creative story with many ways to turn. Good job! Nan 🙂

  2. Dear Liz,

    So many different takes on the prompt this week. Yours is quite colorful. Nicely done.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

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