This is week 181 of Sonya’s #3LineTales writing prompt. Enjoy!
Armstrong: Houston, do you copy? Over.
Houston: Neil, we copy. Receiving physiometrics, all vitals are clean and green. You are good to go. Over.
Armstrong: There’s not much here, just dust and rocks. So, where am I supposed to go again?. Over.
Some think the Apollo programme was a waste of time and resources. But Neil Armstrong’s first steps on another world broke, for humanity, the shackles that still bind every other lifeform on Earth.
That’s a big deal.
The day it happened, I was at school. It was a Monday. Noone ate lunch for that “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” moment (12.56pm Sydney time) – we heard it live on the radio, and then watched it at home on the evening news (no TV at school in those days).
As a pre-teen, I thought it was just another thing that adults did. Fly to the moon, and all that. But in hindsight, I vacillate between respect for the the achievement itself and the money it cost that perhaps could have been spent on more practical things back here on planet Earth.
This is week 160 of Sonya’s #3LineTales writing challenge. I hope you enjoy it!
It was not a meaningful protest. The crowd, never big enough to threaten, had lost interest and wandered off to a pub nearby. Except for one kid. An undersized punk, not even old enough to shave. But he held a knife, and he had the reporters’ attention.
Just by standing there he would be the hero and the police, the villians. “POLICE BRUTALITY”, the headlines would shout, if they disarmed him. “POLICE INCOMPETENCE”, if they didn’t.
Today, one spoilt kid would ruin reputations and careers that had taken a lifetime to build. And there wasn’t a single damn thing they could do about it.
This is week 156 of Sonya’s “Three Line Tales” writing challenge.
“We’re making plans for you, Nigel”, Grandpa said. It was early evening, before dinner, and we were sitting by the lower pool with our legs dangling in the warm water. “Your father wants you in the business, and I agree.”
I didn’t want that. I knew what their business was, and I wanted no part of it. But I liked the luxury, the benefits, the fearful respect, the influence it gave the family, so I didn’t tell him my thoughts.
I was scared of Grandpa. I’d heard about what happened to people who upset him. So I nodded my head, and I was committed. For life.
This is week 155 of Sonya’s “Three Line Tales” writing prompt.
The phone still glowed from the call just ended. Sighing, Ange called her pilot then turned her beacon on. “Next weekend, for sure”, she promised herself.
She lay back on the grass, taking in the silence, the cold, the stars, the loneliness of the high range. The feel of the damp grass under her back and shoulders. Eyes wide open, Ange thought about everything, and nothing.
The sound of the approaching helicopter brought her back. It would be yet another office all-nighter, one more she didn’t want.