Thursday, March 28, 2019

Flash Fiction Friday, Week 13: Promises, Promises

The prompt this week was to choose a song at random, and use it to get our story going. I chose ‘Waiting for the Sun’ by The Doors. The title immediately set the story in motion. For the story, we were to write about an ending for someone or something, a sense of loss. In my story, promises are made and then broken, and an ending comes for all.

Promises, Promises

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

“I’m waiting for the sun.”

“Rachelle, you know how dangerous that can be. They’ve told us over and over that we’re not to be out of our quarters without permission.”

“Martin, I just want to be able to remember how beautiful the sky looks when the first light appears. Our sun becomes dimmer with each new day. Someone needs to be with it at the end.”

“I understand, but if you are caught…”

“The punishment is death, I know, but, a living death awaits us all anyway once it’s cold and dark.”

“There’s a bit of light now. Let’s hurry and go inside. Their security officers will be on patrol soon.”

“I will never understand why this is happening. They promised…”


“Welcome. I am President Crissman. Members of our Administrative Council are Howard Villanova, Brian Dunwoody, Stephen Slater, and Michael Windhurst”

“Gentlemen. I am Commander Brady, and these are Lieutenants Cooper and Ackerman.”

“We are honored to have you visit us. We have been monitoring worlds other than ours for many years, and have hoped some type of contact could be made. Unfortunately, our technology has not yet advanced to the level that would permit us to venture outside our own galaxy.”

“It would be our pleasure to provide you with schematics of all our crafts. We also have information for you on alternate power sources that will revolutionize your production methods. We guarantee your people great prosperity in all areas of industry and farming as well. With our technological capabilities, we believe it is our duty to share our wealth of knowledge with others within the universe.”

“A noble mission indeed. My Council and I are very appreciative that benefactors such as yourselves have chosen to assist our tiny planet.”

“The honor is ours, Mr. President. If you will advise your staff and residents to grant us access to your various systems, as soon as our other ships arrive, we will begin the global conversion. We promise you and your people will have no regrets.”

“Consider it done, Commander. Our home is yours.”


“I’m cold, Martin.”

“I’m sorry, Rachelle. Let me get you another blanket. None of the lamps work anymore, and there’s very little fuel left for the lanterns. Once their other ships got here and their technicians started building those towers, all the energy we had stored started to drain very quickly.”

“If only they would let us build a fire.”

“They don’t want to risk any possible damage from us being careless. Besides, we have no materials to make fire anyway.”

“You do realize people have been able to make fire for centuries.”

“True, but the sun provided a lot of energy during all those centuries. Now though, even that…”


“Commander, thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice. My Council Members and I have been out among our people and have learned some very disturbing facts. You have been building structures that allow you to steadily drain our stored energy. Our citizens have not been able to light their way after sunset because the levels are becoming lower each day. If you need power, we would be happy to provide link-ups to help you, but you are depleting our resources. We have also been told that some of your representatives have been instructing our residents to remain in their homes during certain periods of the day. My people have been threatened, and some have been removed from their homes and their families don’t know where they are. Is any of this true?”

“President Crissman, our representatives are enforcers, and they make sure people follow our rules.”

“Your rules? What are you talking about? This is our planet and I am the…”

“Major Sanders?”


“Take President Crissman and his Council Members to Building 12. It’s time he was retired.”

“You can’t get away with this. The people here will not…”


“It took so little time for it all to go badly. How did we not see what they were planning to do?”

“We took them at their word. They came bearing gifts, and we were blinded by the images they presented. They spoke of fields overflowing with melons and corn, waterways overflowing with crystal clear water, and automated factories overflowing with goods that made our lives happier and easier. They sold us a bill of goods and we welcomed them with open arms. They set an elaborate trap and we joyfully jumped in hook, line, and sinker.”

“Is it too late for us, Martin?”

“It is too late for us all, Rachelle.”


“Commander, all dissenters have been neutralized. Before his termination, their President begged us not to destroy their home. Its survival is his priority.”

“We need to complete the transfer process with their sun and be on our way with the extra power. Earth is our home, and with our sun dead, we take what we need to carry on. That is our priority.”


  1. My story does include loss and an ending of sorts, but doesn't include the basic component of the prompt: Spring. My only excuse is that the song title chosen randomly for me filled my head with the above story and I ran with it. Sorry there's nothing here about it being Springtime, but I hope you'll still like reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  2. Well, you got the sadness for sure. I like the back and forth high level discussions, interspersed with poor Martin and Rachelle. Waiting for the sun, every day, knowing anytime could be the last one, as Earth is sucked dry of energy.

  3. Thanks, Mike. The situation got out of hand very quickly, but smoothly, so no one really noticed until it was too late. Proverbs 29:5 states "The man who flatters his neighbor is spreading a net under his feet." Beware of those bearing gifts...