This is a #storygram (mini-stories) from my Instagram, which you can get to via the social media links at the top of this site. I do my best to make them a daily thing for you to enjoy and share with your friends! I really love making them, as they allow me to simultaneously scratch my photography and writing itches while I’m busy with filmmaking. Thank you very much for reading and sharing them! Don’t forget to check out my film Portfolio too!
The Story:
Three minutes.
Peter looked out the window. Neighbors were running to their cars with their children. Some were trying to pry open manhole covers or hide in a drainage ditch. But not him.
After hearing the warning, he knew there was no hope for any of them. It was time for breakfast, so he poured a bowl of his favorite cereal, a mug of coffee, and sat down. Slowly, he ate and sipped his coffee.
Two minutes.
Peter thought about his former wife. He almost called her, but then, he imagined her curled into the other man’s arms and decided it was best for her if he didn’t.
He thought about the children he wished he had been able to have. Maybe if they could have, she would never have left. For the first time, he decided it was good that he was alone. His death would cause no one pain.
One minute.
Time flies when you don’t want it to. He looked at a picture of his parents. They had both died peacefully in their sleep only a few months apart from each other. He was glad they didn’t have to endure this suspense, this hopelessness.
As he stared deeper into the ink beyond the frame, locking eyes with his mother, he realized that she was beginning to smile wider. Time seemed to be moving slower–her blonde hair blowing slowly in a breeze. She stretched out her arms to reach for him.
“Momma?”
Standing, he stretched out his hand for hers and began walking toward her.
He heard the deep bass of the explosion and saw the blinding light fill his home, but he didn’t feel anything. He just kept his eyes locked on hers.