The Thoughts of a Frumpy Professor

............................................ ............................................ A blog devoted to the ramblings of a small town, middle aged college professor as he experiences life and all its strange variances.

Monday, February 08, 2010

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Flash Fiction Effort

Here it is... weak though it is. At least I am trying to get back in the saddle:

The End... G(l)ory

His life would have been a lot simpler if he'd just said no. No one will disagree with that. Now, no one was left to disagree with that.

"But isn't that the case for us all? What is life? What is love? What is the meaning of it all?" thought Maurice, as he brought the handgun to his temple.

He stood before the mirror in the facilities bathroom as he took aim. He needed to try to see himself during the last moment. He was not sure why, but he did.

Quite tall and lanky, Maurice had a full, bushy grey moustache, and full eyebrows that were so thick they appeared to be fuzzy caterpillars. He looked a bit like an aged characature of Groucho Marx. He had strived to foster that look during the last 12 months.

Yet, for all the comedic look, there was nary a glint of lightness nor humor in his eyes, for he now knew, that when he agreed, he had sealed his fate for eternity. It was a death sentence.

During the first two years, all had been bearable, and there had even been a few very good days. Like the day that they watched the cheering crowds on the monitor as they marked the first anniversary of their journey.

However,the very next day Captain Richard had a heart attack, and he lived for only four hours. It was only days after his death that Claudia, in a fit of despair, opened the door to the hatch and never returned.

Although he felt their loss, he was consoled and comforted by the monitor, his lifeline, his assurance that there was a reason.

Two more years passed. By the fifth year, Maurice watched in horror as the monitor showed the end, the end of his past, the end of his future. It showed the end of his hope. Maurice lost even that minimal illusion of life. He had only his own thoughts left to entertain him. The war to end all... had begun.

That was not enough for Maurice, nor for any man. If only, back then, he had said no.

"Will you take the challenge, sir, and be on our first manned mission to Mars?" said President Obama.

"Yes, I would be honored, Mr. President." Maurice replied in his rich baritone voice.

He should have said no. He wished he would have said no. He wish he did not know.

He pulled the trigger.

* * * * *

Be gentle, yet prolific in comments please. I am hoping to be back every week from now on. I will get my writing back up to snuff, I promise.

PipeTobacco

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