train

Flash Fiction: Bridge

The job was almost over.

The Skulls Mercenaries would collect yet another feather in their cap. Having never failed a mission, we were tasked with guarding the train. Rather, we were tasked with guarding the precious cargo on it.

The journey had been long and intense. Two days of shooting and being shot at. There were many injuries, but not one casualty. My men were the toughest soldiers out there, my personal picks. They would never fail.

This was it, the last bridge to the tunnel, and a heavy pay day.

That was the plan, until the bridge blew up..

Word Count: 100

Prompt:

Friday Fictioneers 7th December 2018

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Three Line Tale: The Train

There it goes again, the train carrying all those little children who are soon going to be introduced to the wondrous world of magic, at the very best school in existence.

As always, I only get to see it from my ancestral home, never getting to sit inside the train, never making the journey these lucky kids are making.

The train mocks me as do the paintings on the walls of my home, all my ancestors, blessed with magical abilities, and me, the only black sheep in the family can only dream of magic….

Word Count: 94

Prompt:

Three Line Tales, Week 145