The rusted hulk was transported all the way from Terra Firma, decontaminated, and then mounted here. Humans still came and flocked around it, their children listening to the old stories.
‘We destroyed our world… This is the only thing that can save it.’ Mother explained.
‘But – but… It’s all rusted and doesn’t work. How can it save anything?’
‘It is a reminder to all of us who are left. Time heals all wounds, and only time will heal our world. Until then, we must live here, in this sphere and watch our world spin below.’ Mother choked on a tear.
If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us. You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/03/01/3-march-2017/