Something about this picture reminded me of a post-apocalyptic vision. My entry feels a little BSG to me (that’s Battlestar Galactica, for the uninitiated) but it’s what came to mind first and I usually can’t talk myself out of first impression.
Word Count: 100
Give me your tired
The small flotilla chugged forward, precious fuel approaching empty. The horizon glimmered ahead, growing from a thin dark line to recognizable shapes: a port, a beacon, a herald.
War rumbled in their memory, the sudden destruction of their old world. Like voyagers in years gone by, they approached the shore to explore anew. What awaited them could only be imagined.
Huddled near the counter, the faint ticking of radiation emitted a warning; a reminder that despite familiarity, nothing was the same. Pressing on, following a primal desire to be free, over a sea laced with silver and sadness. Land beckoned.
Please check out the links to all the other Flash Friday Fictioneers, which can be found here.
© Erin Leary