I ran into the building to get away from the angry mob of protestors outside.
What is this place? The middle of the room is contained in a sort of marble circle. Who is that by those torches?
“Oh good, you’re here.”
He’s African-American, bald, and I’ve never seen him before in my life.
“Hurry. There isn’t much time.”
“Time for what?”
“For you to go through the eye and restore the balance. The world is terribly divided, and only you can manipulate reality.”
“Who am I?” Then I felt myself lifted up toward the glass oval in the ceiling.
I wrote this for the Rochelle Wisoff-Fields writing challenge. The idea is to use the image above as the prompt for crafting a piece of flash fiction no more than 100 words long. My word count is 100.
I’d love to have figured out where this photo was taken, but that would have required a lot of work, and I’m short on time lately. The oval-shaped window in the ceiling reminds me of the large window in comic book character Doctor Strange’s Sanctum Sanctorum. Last night, I read a story about a man with amnesia who turned out to be an alien, and I have a tendency to write a lot of stories featuring a Messiah-like figure. Put all that together, and you have the tale I just wrote.
To read other stories based on the prompt, visit InLinkz.com.