The Airport

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

A short story about an Airport in someplace somewhere

The Airport:

A howl of wind went through the old terminal building, a fog of dust moved with it. Penelope and the rest of their group had assured him that this was safe, and he'd be in and out without a problem. He found it strange that if that were their sentiment that they seemed so intent on staying behind while he went in alone. Surely if the haul was that valuable they'd want more hands to carry it out. It didn't matter he supposed, he was just glad to be doing something besides tending the chickens and checking the water traps.

He knew what airports were his father had told him all about them, but he'd never seen a plane before and he wondered how these great lumps of metal managed to fly through the sky at such a speed. He walked slowly and cautiously through the terminal, whatever value they thought was stored here would surely have been picked clean by now. He looked at the ransacked stores and stalls, he admired a advertisement for perfume, a beautiful brunette in a golden dress stared lustfully, while cupped in her hands was a small box of the same colour as her dress. CLANK! A noise awoke him from his fantasy and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Shining his light towards the sound he saw black shapes dart off in every direction, rats, how was it they always managed to survive where all else dies.

He walked towards a Bar and Kitchen sign, he saw the gnawed bones that the rats had been chewing on. Poor bugger he thought, scraps of the dead mans clothes were still on him and he noticed a distinctive if somewhat faded and damaged logo, it looked the number 8 but much more rigid. 'I wonder what your life was like' he said audibly. Once again pulling his attention away from his musings on the world long since gone he walked forward behind the counter and into the kitchen, he figured a good knife was always a prized piece of salvage, for cutting their meat and the bland hard root vegetables that they grew. He didn't dare to hope that there might be a iron cooking pot, surely that would have been taken by now. Scanning the room he could scarcely believe it, there ontop of the stove a large iron pot, used for cooking, specifically, he could use it for cooking, he noted that whatever else comes from this trip, he'd considered useless it had been worth it to score this.

He deemed to keep looking but remember where it was on his way out. It would be somewhat cumbersome to carry, so he vowed to find a dolly or flat top on which he could put it, that would be two valuable bits of salvage in one day. Maybe Penelope was onto something. Leaving the kitchen with his light on and his hopes high, his stomach dropped as concealed in the darkness was a silhouette of a man, he certainly hadn't been there before... He could hear a laboured breathing and something he thought was a growl, he was stunned still, even if he wanted to speak he couldn't, he saw a flash, and all went black...

Submitted: April 12, 2019

© Copyright 2021 C. Edwards. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



A good piece of flash fiction. You could, however, make it more screen reader friendly by breaking it down in to paragraphs.

Sat, April 13th, 2019 7:02pm


Thank you for your comment and advice, I broke the story up a little to make it easier to read.

Mon, April 15th, 2019 8:18am

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