The birds. It was always the damn birds. Ninety-seven of them today… five more than yesterday.
Any doubts he’d been harboring finally melted away. It was actually happening. He’d foretold this event hundreds of years ago, barely believing it himself when he glimpsed it in the fire. No one believed him then and it was even less likely they’d believe him now.
Sighing, he stood up as straight as his body would allow and made his way back inside. Looking at his bent and withered hands, he willed them to perform the way they used to. He was humanity’s last hope.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction prompt where we are given a photo and asked to write a 100 word story – beginning, middle and end. This one came in at 101 words. I hope you enjoy!
Click on the blue froggy to read other amazing 100-word stories!