C. Attleya's Blog: C. Attleya - Posts Tagged "flash-fiction"

Our Last Steps

As we nervously queue to enter our new worlds, I sway between excitement and fear. What do we actually know about our saviours?
Only a few hours ago, it appeared in the sky. A golden belt surrounded our planet and,as it absorbed the sunlight, it resembled a giant donut, frying in the sky. While our world powers depleted the un-might of their defences on an untouchable enemy, the rest of us waited, watching the flares as they ricocheted between the glowing band and Earth’s atmosphere. When our world leaders finally ran out of ammunition, the ensuing silence, which preceded our first contact, was deafening.

Screens around the world sprang back to life, as our new rulers made their address:
“Dear Earthlings, there is no need for concern about your leaders’ violent welcome. We expected this reception and came prepared. We will not hold it against you as a species. The motivation of our visit is the incident of a powerful sun flare, which will imminently set your planet ablaze.
To save your kind,we decided to relocate all citizens of Earth.Designation of your new posts has been determined based on suitability, temperament and interests. Family units will remain intact. We are currently setting up portals for transportation, which will commence in five Earth minutes.
However, relocation is only available to those who were not allocated space in shelters. Any persons who were informed of this disaster and assigned a place in a shelter, should proceed to, and enter their place of safety as planned. We advise you not to exit until at least 8128 Earth days have past.
All other humans are invited to move to a new home in this Cosmos, in one of your five neighbouring Universes. Please, depart your residence and make your way to the nearest portal. Transport of other Earth species has already commenced.”

It may sound disrespectful, and disrespectful is the last thing you’d want to be in the face of extra-terrestrial visitors who dropped in to save your bacon, but really, they look like donuts. Six-feet-tall golden hoops, shimmering with icing, inviting us to step through a tall circular portal.My better half, whose hand is clasped in a bruising grip which until today I didn’t realise I possessed, prefers to refer to them as halos. And I guess he’s right, we should reserve our disdain for our leaders and politicians, who appropriated a place of safety whilst leaving their loyal taxpayers out to fry.
We are almost there now. Bluebell and Banjo, our cats, disappeared before we left our home, and the family in front of us said their goldfish, Sharkfin, vanished from his bowl during the broadcast. I see all four of them holding hands as they step through the giant donut, sorry, halo, set up at the corner of our street. It’s our turn. As we take our last steps on our birth planet, I catch a glimpse of our new home.
It is stunning.

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