ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
RAPTURE
Prologue
Will Bova
Shriever Airforce Base
Colorado Springs, CO
November 11th, 2015
"I remember the moment He returned.
"I rolled out of bed at 5 something in the morning to see to our 1 year old protesting in the bedroom adjacent to ours. Barely awake myself, I picked him up out of his crib, sat down on the pull-out couch/futon thing we kept in the room, talked to him, tried to put him back at ease.
"That's when the room lit up, like it was a June afternoon for all of a minute. I had to turn away from the window, it was so bright. For some morbid reason, I recall thinking of Hiroshima.
"When the light finally faded, the kid and I went to the window to see if I could find anything that might explain such a rude interlude to my routinely bleak morning regiment - maybe a chopper running an early training sortie. A stretch, yeah, but plausible.
"Suffice to say, no luck. A comfortably bland morning briefly punctuated by an unexplained flash of light. I had almost entirely forgotten about the phenomenon by the time I made it downstairs with the kid. I probably chalked it up to being sleep-deprived or something equally vague and non-committal.
"While putting some semblance of a breakfast together for the baby, I turned on the small television we keep on the kitchen counter there to give me something to listen to in the downtime between prolonged bouts of baby talk back-and-forth. While I worked, I cycled through channels until I got to the local news station.
"You could immediately tell something was amiss. Exaggerated expressions, harrowed voices, shoddy camera work. But most importantly, a distinct lack of local news. The whole broadcast was dominated by something going down in New York.
"Something important.
"...why is it always New York?"
Prologue
Will Bova
Shriever Airforce Base
Colorado Springs, CO
November 11th, 2015
"I remember the moment He returned.
"I rolled out of bed at 5 something in the morning to see to our 1 year old protesting in the bedroom adjacent to ours. Barely awake myself, I picked him up out of his crib, sat down on the pull-out couch/futon thing we kept in the room, talked to him, tried to put him back at ease.
"That's when the room lit up, like it was a June afternoon for all of a minute. I had to turn away from the window, it was so bright. For some morbid reason, I recall thinking of Hiroshima.
"When the light finally faded, the kid and I went to the window to see if I could find anything that might explain such a rude interlude to my routinely bleak morning regiment - maybe a chopper running an early training sortie. A stretch, yeah, but plausible.
"Suffice to say, no luck. A comfortably bland morning briefly punctuated by an unexplained flash of light. I had almost entirely forgotten about the phenomenon by the time I made it downstairs with the kid. I probably chalked it up to being sleep-deprived or something equally vague and non-committal.
"While putting some semblance of a breakfast together for the baby, I turned on the small television we keep on the kitchen counter there to give me something to listen to in the downtime between prolonged bouts of baby talk back-and-forth. While I worked, I cycled through channels until I got to the local news station.
"You could immediately tell something was amiss. Exaggerated expressions, harrowed voices, shoddy camera work. But most importantly, a distinct lack of local news. The whole broadcast was dominated by something going down in New York.
"Something important.
"...why is it always New York?"
The start of the novel I started writing this morning.
© 2013 - 2024 Altitron
Comments2
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Liked it. Interesting start. I'll sure keep reading if you keep posting.