Memories in the Wind- Flash Fiction

Photo credit: old story | via photopin (license)

Dreea swiped at a tickle on her chin only to find it wet with her own tears. She sniffed back further tears in shock as she considered her surroundings carefully. She remembered the crash, remembered him dying in her arms. She remembered the explosion that consumed the ship along with the body of the man she loved before sending her sprawling onto the rocky ground.

 She slowly sat up in the bed, wiping the tears from her eyes before tentatively feeling the bandage across her forehead. She didn’t remember coming here, she didn’t remember this place at all.

 “Hello?” Dreea called out with a dry voice.

 No one answered. Dreea decided that she’d better figure out if she was a guest or prisoner. She slowly made her way across the room, noting that almost every muscle in her body ached along with the emptiness she felt deep in her chest.

 Trying the handle on the metal door she found that it swung easily on its hinges and allowed the sun to pour into the small room. Dreea peered through the sunlight and stepped out into the gray dusty road in front of her. A tinkling sound drew her attention across the street to a pole hanging above the door across from her.

 A few moments passed before someone approached Dreea. She paid just enough attention to tell that the alien wasn’t armed before turning again to the object twisting in the wind.

 “What is that?” Dreea asked the scaly creature waiting patiently by her side.

 The alien reached into a pocket into its apron and pulled out a box that translated its answer.

 “The family lost an elderly one, the mobile tells their loved one’s story.” The computerized voice responded. “Her favorite place was among the trees in the growing place. She loved to sing and to feel the wind. Her son and daughter decorated this to hang in memory of her.”

Dreea’s eyes swam with tears and the ache in her chest swelled as she considered the imagery that could tell her dearest’s story. A constellation of stars, his mission patch, and the image of the sailboat from his favorite book. Maybe some blue and silver ribbons, and the buttons from his favorite shirt.

The alien touched her injured arm gently.

 “I saw your burning ship. Would you like to make one?” The translated voice said.

 No longer able to hold them back, her tears poured from her eyes and dripped to the rocky ground beneath her feet.

 “Yes please,” Dreea mumbled.


This post is part of the 52 week flash fiction challenge on facebook
Week 52 word prompt: Story
Word Limit: 20- 500
Word Count: 423