He slipped the sunglasses out of his breast pocket and put them on. The yellow sky had been his cue. He pulled the ball out of his right pocket.
His instructions had read,
“YELLOW SKY:
- Don these sunglasses
- Oblong ball in your right hand
- Leave the building.
- Walk east.
- Push the button on the ball when you see the ship.”
He left the building and walked east. Other people seemed oblivious to the yellow haze. He reached up to pull down the sunglasses, but jerked his hand away as he recalled the vehemence with which the little man who had handed him the package had said, “Follow these instructions EXACTLY. Don’t do more. Don’t do less.”
He wasn’t sure if pulling the sunglasses down would be more OR less, but it certainly wasn’t part of the instructions.
The haze was heavy, stifling, but odorless. Nobody else seemed aware of it. Nobody seemed perturbed. Nobody cared.
He shifted the ball in his right hand and started to pass it to his left, but stopped. The instructions were clear which hand it should be in.
He stopped when he saw the ship, a huge orb, maybe 20 stories high. Eight spidery legs extended from it and were firmly planted on the ground. A long ramp extended down to the sidewalk and strange humanoids carrying weapons were running down it. People seemed oblivious to the whole thing.
He felt the button under his right thumb, hesitated a moment, and pushed it.
I missed last week’s Unicorn Challenge. I have a submission started in my draft folder for it — 142 words worth of set-up.
This week I was determined not to miss it — so you’ve got 250 words of set-up, but — dang it all! — I don’t know what happens. Why the importance of adhering exactly to the instructions? What did the button do?
The Unicorn Challenge is simple:
Maximum of 250 words.
Inspired by photo prompt above.
Not a word about being a complete story.
Hot Dogs and Marmalade 