Good morning readers!
Today’s post is the second in the Writing Prompt’s series! Thank you again to Writers Write for letting me use their pictures. This post is just a little shot and not a proper short story. I don’t know if it will make to the final version, but it can be part of my present WIP.
Shooting stars have nothing magical. They are just meteoroid, small bodies travelling through space that produce a streak of light when enters the Earth’s atmosphere. Make a wish on a shooting star is pointless. But tonight, when I saw that start falling with a perfect arch, I couldn’t help involuntarily making a wish.
All of these people need to be erased from the face of the Earth.
They are a plague. We are the predestined. Sooner or later, nature would have done what those pathetic scientists did in the attempt to protect their stupid race. They just made us a favour, they just quickened the matter a little. Now it’s our turn to rule and there’s no place for them in the picture.
Dear little star, can you please make them all die? No, you can’t because you are nothing more than powder by now and you can kill them no more than you can save them. You, little star, have no power. But I have. I can do what you can’t.
Dear little star, I don’t need you. But if you want you can stay around for a while and watch me triumph.