Quinn arrived painfully, tumbling over a rocky surface. The beam hovered above. He had only minutes.
He looked around, alarmed by the devastation he saw. Something was wrong; this was a bleak, dying, place, just like home. He hadn’t travelled back far enough. He scrambled for his oxygen mask, wondering why he hadn’t already succumbed to toxic air. Somehow, he was breathing.
Bewildered, he studied his surroundings. Not the moist, green countryside he’d hoped for, then, but perhaps, if he searched …
There! Just metres away – vibrant splashes of vegetation, magnificent. He rushed to gather specimens, aware of time running out.
Once again this 100 word story is for Friday Fictioneers. Thank you to Rochelle, who posts a picture prompt each week and reads and comments on every story. Thanks also to all the writers who contribute inspiring and entertaining stories. You can read them here.
Friday Fictioneers are generous in their support and encouragement of members’ writing efforts outside the nurturing walls of FriFic. I very much appreciate the congratulations and wonderful comments I received for my first prize-winning story last week, and Rochelle’s kind mention of it on her site this week.