Flash Fiction

The journey up the steep mountainside on the water powered train system had been uneventful. Even the cold granite of the reception hall suggested little of the event to come.

Petyr, big man though he was, struggled against the powerful wind, that engulfed the peak as he exited the hall’s sliding doors. As he made his way to the viewpoint the thick melting snow seeped through his cheap worn shoes, and the wind scythed through his thin jacket. He didn’t care.

He manoeuvred himself to the unprotected edge overlooking the small town below. He pushed off. Now he would fly.