December 17th 1903
“Do I have to?” begged Orville.
“Yes” said Wilbur.
“Well I’ve changed my mind”
“You’ll be alright. I’m your brother. I wouldn’t ask you to if it was dangerous”.
“Why me, not you?” pleaded Orville.
“Because I don’t like heights,” said Wilbur. “Hop aboard. I’ll surround you with cushions, so if it goes wrong you won’t get hurt”
“What do you mean if it goes wrong? You said it’s safe”
Orville’s pathetic pleas went unheeded. Minutes later Wright Flyer 1 spluttered into life, and the fragile timber and cloth contraption bounced its way off the ground and into the air.
“Oooo … I don’t like it … I hate you Wilbur Wright” yelled Orville.
Twelve seconds and 125 triumphant feet later, the flying machine bumped back to earth. Orville tumbled out and sat clutching his tummy.
That evening Wilber stood before an assembled crowd.
“One day man will cross hostile terrains, fly above oceans. Travel to distant places. One day even the stars.”
“Bugger that” shouted Orville. “You can do it without me. I’m off for a beer”
Word count 175
I originally posted a longer version of this piece in 2008 and hardly anybody read it! So, here it is again but with less than half the number of words!
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is hosted by Priceless Joy. The photo is by Yinglan