bchrisdesigns

What story am I?

What story am I?

What story am I?

What story am I?

“There was a time I would never do something like this…”

The pilot handed me a helmet and ignored my rambling.

It was up to him to complete the mission. Failure was not an option.

“Where’s Serendipity?”

“One guess.”

Bobby poked his tiny head around the corner and saw the man with the metal fingers pointing one, long silvery one at his daddy. Daddy looked pale, scared even.

Even the dusty butterflies and swaying tree had felt the need to pause and reflect on the power of love’s spell.

She lay slumped over, twitching. Popping up, she crawled toward me on all fours, her eyeballs pitch black.