Helicopter patrol above the big city park was fairly routine. A fracas of some sort every few days, an occasional fender-bender. Mostly boring.
“Down there,” Sam pointed to a small clearing between the trees. He picked up the radio mic. “Rape in progress at Hippie Hill. Respond.”
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Written for this week’s Twittering Tales prompt from Kat Myrman. Photo credit: David Reed at Pixabay.com.
Gregg heard the sound of the helicopter flying overhead. He looked up and saw hundreds of pieces of paper floating down from the whirlybird. He reached out and picked one of the fluttering leaflets out of the air before it came to rest on the ground.
After reading it, he dropped the leaflet and stood there almost petrified. Whatever hope anyone had for a peaceful transfer of power was surely lost with this news. Carrying an armful of leaflets, Gregg ran back to the small rural community. He needed to make sure the townsfolk knew what was about to happen. He was sure that everyone in town shared the sentiment expressed in the leaflets.
After all, this was coal country and they had voted overwhelmingly for the president, who had promised to restore their jobs and to bring back prosperity to their ghost towns.
But his promises went unfulfilled and his once-faithful supporters felt betrayed. The coal mines never reopened and the towns around them and the men who worked them continued to suffer. They had long ago burned their MAGA hats and dropped their naïve support for the lying bastard who gave them hope but only delivered more misery.
The leaflets from the resistance movement warned the townsfolk that, despite losing the 2020 election “bigly,” the president still refused to recognize the results, calling the election rigged and claiming that the results were illegitimate because of the votes of illegal immigrants who had flooded through the porous southern border due to Democrats not funding his wall.
Instead, he called upon his MAGA-faithful in the red states to take up arms against the “liberal elitists” and to fight to the death to preserve his power.
The leaflets warned the townsfolk that the MAGA militia was heading their way and to be prepared to fight them in the battle to protect our constitution and to preserve our democracy.
This little glimpse into America’s future uses the following daily prompts: Ragtag Daily Prompt (leaflet), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (petrified), Word of the Day Challenge (hope), and Your Daily Word Prompt (sentiment).
“There it is,” Brian said, barely able to contain his excitement. “Virgin snow!”
Bob looked across to the other side of the valley, where Brian was looking. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. “How do we even get to the top?”
“We hike,” Brian said. “The slope to the right of the summit is gradual. It will take a few hours to hike to the summit, but once we get there, you’ll see that it will all have been worth it.”
Brian had convinced Bob that there was nothing more thrilling than extreme skiing. “Skiing down a slope of virgin snow that no one has yet been down is the greatest skiing experience of all,” he told Bob.
“Aren’t extreme skiers usually flown to the summit in a helicopter?” Bob asked.
“That’s one approach for those who have tons of money,” Brian said. “But regular guys like us, we hike.”
Bob was already tired and they easily had another few hours just to get to the base of the mountain. Brian said that once they got there they would pitch their tents, camp there for the night, and then start hiking to the summit first thing the next morning. Bob was tempted to head back to his car and drive home, but he knew Brian would be pissed, so when Brian picked up his gear and started toward the mountain, Bob did the same.
The sun was starting to set when they reached the campsite, so they quickly pitched their tents and ate some beef jerky and protein bars before turning in for the night.
The next morning, as Brian had said they would, the two men rose early, ate some more jerky and a few energy bars, and then started hiking up toward the summit.
Bob was exhausted when they finally reached the summit, but Brian was totally energized. “Just look at this amazing view,” he said to Bob. “It’s truly breathtaking.”
“I need to rest here for a while,” Bob said. “You go on ahead and I’ll meet you at the bottom.”
Brian had already changed into his ski boots and put on his skis. “Sounds like a plan, buddy,” he said. “See you at the bottom.” Brian virtually flung himself off the summit and started flying down the hill. He let out a loud primal scream as the adrenaline surged through his body.
And that’s when the avalanche began.
Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt.
This, That, and the Other 