This week, Write on Edge did a prompt with this picture.
Using your imagination, you are supposed to do a fictional piece telling the story behind it.
Title: The Red Room
Word count: 263
Ó Pure Grace
The wobble of the submarine disorients me. Noises explode around me as the engines kick into full throttle. Power rushes over the machinery. I feel unsteady ~ really, unready.
A hand touches my shoulder and I whip around. “What?” I shout explosively at the white-clad sailor.
“We ~ er ~ just wanted to notify you that all is in readiness and we await your signal.”
“Then await it!”
He nods and scurries out of my view, casting a puzzled look back at me. I hope he couldn’t see the sweat beaded on my forehead. I have never been given such an important assignment before. If I fail, I may as well surrender my sub to the enemy. There is no getting out if the enemy survives.
Mission: blow up the naval base. Objective: get out alive.
I close my eyes and see the Admiral in front of me, clapping me on the shoulder, congratulating me for securing the order, shaking my hand. Is that sincerity in his eyes? Or malicious fraud? Why would he pick me, untrained, untried, to carry out this mission. He hated my grandfather. He hated my father. He hated their success and heroism. What is to keep him from hating me?
Colors burn in my eyes, kaleidoscope across the room so I can’t distinguish anything, and, slowly, twist and fuse into one solid theme. Red. Red like blood.
The white tubes of the missiles gradually form out of the red haze, beckoning, silent, but clear. Determination settles over me. Let’s do this.
I give the signal.