Warning this is part 4 a series post.
Chapter One: This Anit That!
Part Four
Log #10010
I logged in and checked the scanners again.
Nothing.
I am beginning to think there are no beacons left in operation.
End of Log #10010
Everyone wants to live a long life.
To me, such a notion is highly overrated.
I have seen so many sunrises I can name the hues of colors the light makes hitting the horizon.
I have fought in countless wars.
I have saved more lives than I can count or care to take credit for.
I moved up the ranks in my platoon.
I am the lone survivor at my station.
There is no honor in abandoning your post, but what do you do when you are the last of the army?
“Well, old man? What do we do then?”
A wrinkled-faced white-haired man says out loud, looking in the mirror.
“It has been almost 60 years since the last attack and 20 years since the transmission.
Am I the only one left?“
The man is questioning while looking into a dust-covered mirror mounted on a dusty wall.
The wall was spattered with outdated wallpaper barely holding onto its adhesive.
The mix between the brick under-wall and the wallpaper makes the walls look like they are bleeding from the weight of dusting.
The man removes the dust from the mirror, revealing its shiny surface.
He stares at himself in the steaks of the exposed mirror, touching and turning his face for better views.
He then leans toward the mirror to view his wrinkled face before breaking the glass with a stiff right punch.
The mirror bursts into pieces under the pressure of the man’s hit, crumbling to the dusty brick floor below.
“Pull yourself together, boy!
Your Captain Willing T Azjaynee, Leader of Michael’s Wings. The most elite group of soldiers to ever be assembled!”
He yells, looking at his broken mirror spread across the floor.
End Part Four
Thank you for reading.
See you on the next post!
Peace.
My name is Kinfolk Wellin and this is my original content.
All rights reserved.
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