Captain Travis stared at the anomaly on the main screen and inhaled deeply. “Any readings off it?”
“Negative,” the helmsman said, glancing down at his instrument panel. “According to the sensors, there’s nothing out there.”
“How can that be, Captain?”
Captain Travis looked at the communication’s officer and studied her worried face. In twenty years, he had never seen her look so afraid or sound so puzzled. Everyone on the bridge looked to him for the answer, but he didn’t have one.
As they watched the silvery mist twist and turn on the screen they started tilting their heads the way children do when looking at clouds.
“Is that a boat?”
“I think I see a balloon,” a crew member said, tilting his head the other way.
“That looks like a clown.”
Captain Travis chuckled. “It reminds me of that classic movie, IT.”
“Oh man, that show is so cheesy.”
“Cheesy? That movie terrified me when I was six. Never liked clowns since.”
With all the debate over the merits of the movie, no one noticed the mist taking a more solid form–until it was too late.
Adam was like any other eighteen-year-old boy and soon found himself standing in the middle of the training bay being subjected to the drill instructor’s ridicule. It wasn’t his fault the quarter didn’t flip on the old mattress, but he accepted his punishment anyway. He didn’t have another choice.
Ever since the revolution began, more and more troops were needed. There were even whispered rumors of lowering the age to thirteen if you were from a poor family. The government paid dearly for your life. That money could help support the family.
After completing fifty push-ups and parading around the bay in his underwear, Adam and the other recruits headed outside for training. The morning was dedicated to basic weapons and enemy language skills. Many of the recruits were already fluent, but the training was the same. Adam excelled and only realized his mistake when he was called into the Commander’s office that afternoon.
“Take a seat,” Commander Flint said, pointing toward a chair in the corner of the room.
Adam did as he was told and caught his breath as two governmental agents entered Flint’s office. One look from them and Adam knew he was in danger.
“That is Private Adam Ripple, yes.”
“Come with us,” an agent ordered, flashing his sidearm and a warning glance.
Adam stood. “What is this all about?”
The agents stared at him. The one nearest him replied, “…….
For this story, I am going to tag the amazing Kristian to continue the story.
post the story as you receive it
add to the story (or finish it, up to the writer)
tag another person to continue the story (unless you finished it)
Small note regarding time for each tag: I understand we all live busy lives, so I allot one week per tag. This is firm unless the tagged person commented on the taggers post and the tagged person appears to write on a schedule. If the story has not continued or concluded within a week after a tag, I will consider the story dead and post the compiled story and begin a new one.