The Porthole

Everybody has a chance, but it does depend on where you are at the time it appears. I only say that because I am sure I have seen some of the faces here, before. Like, for example, your face.

Now, as we watch the young child take her chance to join us, I will do all I can to make sure she makes it in time, but I need your help too.

#flashfiction #shortstory #fiction
Pixabay image by Natan Vance

What I have created now looms in front of her. If this had been happening a few years ago, I would have had full control over how long the porthole on our spaceship would remain open. Now, however, my power over my creation seems to be weakening.

Even though I know life has been cruel to this child, you’re not so sure, are you?

From what I have witnessed, this child will be a credit to both of us. And, as our world is dying, we need all the souls we can get to build our army.

“Run, child, run,” I shout, as she nears the opening. But you remain silent. Why?

We need her to help save our world. Don’t you see that?

My heart drops when I see the porthole begin to close. I can hear my followers behind me screaming, yet you remain silent. I hope the child makes it through in time.

With a mighty leap, she makes it through before it closes.

“Daddy,” she whispers, as she wraps her arms around my waist. I could tell she now felt safe.

“Now go, child, go do all the bad things you really meant to do when you were on that world. No more being good and trying to make yourself acceptable because of what others told you. The world you have just left was too cruel to you.”

As she looks up at me and smiles, I know she will not fail me.

“Thank you, Father. I always wanted to meet the Devil and come to Hell.”


Written in response to the Monthly Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt, from Diana, at Myths of the Mirror. Click here for full details.

Copyright © 2019 – All rights reserved.

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