THE ONE-WAY RACE

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by ATINWritersClub

by ATINWritersClub

#MicroStory No. 1

The One-way Race
by katagaatkatha

Footsteps echoed in the corridor as Adam treads. Grey suit and black oxfords flatter him as always.

"Now is the time," he says as he approaches the elevator.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Ding! The elevator door opens.

The night is up. Tall grasses dance as the wind sings cold breeze. Crickets' chirp harmonizes the loud thwacks from the shovel as Twain digs onto the ground. He remains unaffected as sweat forms like pearls on his forehead. He doesn't mind the dirt sticking onto his hands or landing on his white long-sleeves.

The siren wails for the first time.

"Now is the time," he says as he stops digging. He lets go of the shovel, then leaves.

The siren wails for the second time. The cloth shimmered like the stars in a night sky as Trace unfolded it on the working table.

"Now is the time," he said as he cuts through the cloth. He wears the wardrobe that he made for the big event. He walks out while the cape sweeps off the floor.

The siren wails for the third time. The metal chains clang. The water plinks. Their sound fills the emptiness of the hideout.

"Now is the time," Iver says as he climbs the wooden stairs. His black boots clomp every step he takes. He gets the T-square then measures something.

Metal necklaces clang as Finn untangles them. He sets his foot, clad in black pants, a black coat, and black sneakers.

"Now is the time," he said as he ran and stepped through a torn pages newspaper.

The siren wails for the last time. The five stunning men in shades of black gather in the open field. They meet the yearning gazes of the millions of spectators. The one-way race is on.

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#AWC #ATINWrites #SB19xAWC
#SB19 #SB19WhatIsComing
#AWC_TheOneWayRace #SB19Fanfic
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Layout: Kelly Rosacinia
Photo: SB19
Reference: SB19 - WHAT? Mood Film