In our modern city where the people could not travel any longer, we grew together. As our 18th birthday gift, the President handed our Teleportation Bottle—we could only use it once. Whisper the country, not names, and we would be there without returns.
I saw two figures in the night as I approached your house. Your Father muttered to your Mother, “we have to sacrifice our daughter to strengthen our power of spells.” The cult would burn you tonight.
Through my sharp blade, I stabbed their chests. I woke you up and told you my truth. We held our Transportation Bottles to go to Venice while the cult yelled outside as they burned the house. “They won’t stop searching for me.”
“In Venice, we will seek peace,” I said.
Since the bottle could not carry two bodies, we had to whisper the country separately. My vision blurred until I felt the cold water around me.
Seven nights later, I read about your death.
Check out this week’s prompt at:
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
WORD COUNT: 164
Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.