NOT A CIRCUS SIDESHOW
The closer, the more intense his voice.
It had been summoning me for months.
How does an eleven-year-old say “Dad, there’s this being- an enlightened creature.
It… He… I’m not sure?
He’s traveled through many galaxies.
He possesses abilities?
Insights to correct our ecological imbalances?
Right now authorities think he’s a circus sideshow.
But he speaks… I have to tell them…
And I can understand him.”
Finally, after the expounding on his travels for an entire fortnight, he said something Dad would understand.
“Dad, he can cure Mom’s leukemia.”
We left for Goose Bay, Newfoundland, the next day.
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction. Requirements: Using the photo prompt, create a 200 word (or less) flash fiction piece.