White To Orchid


James Winsel watched in silence as the alien foam-ice slowly crept over his window ledge. The square black eyes of the abandoned building across the street leered menacingly at him as the white, powdery death inched closer to the cold glass.

James slid the window open, stared at the foam-ice with enraged eyes, and screamed, “Leave! Leave now you bastards!” A dab of spittle hung from his lips like madness.

He looked at the aloe and orchid guarding his room and laughed low and deep.

“I pulled a secret from your mind.”

The sound of distant jets filled the air.


Prompt from Friday Fictioneers.  Photo © Roger Bultot



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