Days until Countdown

Dad

"Dad!" I scream, I can barely see him, much vision fading. I lurch up from my bed and sit with my fists pressed hard against my temples. "Dad..." I whisper, I glance at my alarm clock 4:50, "crabs!" I fall onto the floor as I struggle to untangle myself from the twisted mess. The blankets drops to the ground and I run to my wardrobe, chucking on a black tee, a brown leather jacket and some jeans. I jog to the kitchen, like a normal person would be doing at 5 in the morning and make a cup of coffee. The kettle bubbles and boils and then I hear a slight "ting" and pour hot water into my mug. I put the coffee onto the table and resume making toast.

I rush to finish everything, gulping down my coffee and shivering every sip. I hate coffee, but it's the only reason I make it through every day, I wish I was still young. "Ugh!" I cough when I taste my toast, I look at it like it's going to say sorry, "no butter" I mutter abut continue to eat. I get out of the house by 5:30, the sun barely rising over the horizon, I walk down the side walk past a early morning smoker. I gag slightly, "love the smell of Tabasco in the morning" I splutter. He gives me rude look and puffs out a bit more smoke into my face as I continue walking. Finally I reach a cab stop, I wave down an auto and I pay the driver some penny's as we drive slowly but surely towards base.

I have thoughts. I look down at my ID tags and remember dad wearing his own every time he landed. I'd always run up to him with a smile stretching from ear to ear across my face. He'd pick me up and put me on the wing of his intruder, smiling too. I shake my head. "Too deep," I cursed myself and looked back through the windscreen, "Almost at your stop ma'am" said the driver without looking at me, I don't respond and rest my elbow on the door.

When I arrive at the base I'm greeted by Miriam, our desk lady, she nods at me approvingly when I show her my ID tags and I go through doors upon doors until I reach our meeting room. It's an old shed, used to store all the old World War I and II planes. I sit down amongst the rest of the pilots and look towards our base commander Harrison, who stands in front of our flags. A swirling spiral on a field of black and blue.

"Not many "disputes" today," Harrison announces , some moan and other clap, I stay still. He goes through name upon name and fight upon fight. "Exaros, your at the amphitheatre, tier 3 fight at 10:30, be there." I nod accordingly and glance around at the other pilots. I glance down at my ID tags again. "This ones for you dad."

Hey guys, sorry for the short part, it's a start.
I've changed my style of writing a bit, give me some feedback if possible on ways to improve.
Thanks for reading my new book and I hope you enjoy.

Stay awesome, keep reading
-WolvesID