Monday, November 27, 2006

Second Coming

December. Armoured cars can’t enter the valley now, and patrols are few. The guerillas hide the child in a manger, not expecting trouble.

Half a kilometer away, a concealed radio beacon beams its message to the stars. Satellites whirl, the location is pinpointed. Somewhere in the night, three jets turn screaming, missiles ready to fire.

(55 words)


jj said...

nice post!!

Space Bar said...

aha! heat seeking missiles, slouching towards bethlehem to be born. nice.

thistle said...

there really is no hope for us, is there? :)