Flying Under the Influence

George fell out of the sky one Sunday morning at 10:11:12. He’d timed it that way. He just never factored in the possibility of failure.

Under the gloom of a murky red sky, passersby prodded George’s body, his cheeks, peeled back thick waxy eyelids.

Pools of red and silver ink flowed out from beneath his white jumpsuit, staining the silken fibres. A tiny girl crawled closer. “Is he supposed to leak like that?”

At the hospital, the doctor shook his head. “This was set to ‘land.’ Oh, George. Everyone knows our wings are just for show.” From out of George’s pocket, he pulled a miniature autopilot dragon.


Copyright © 2015 by Emily Clayton
Originally appeared on Micro Bookends:

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