Four Minutes


The image flashed on the screen: the palacae, the golden statue, the green of the trees. It all seemed so quiet, so serene, so normal.

“You understand, of course,” the man in the golden mask explained, turning to look at his bound prisoner, “that they will not even have the time to feel fear before the end comes? It will just be a blaze of light and then…” He tapped his fingers on a computer and Eve imagined a smug smile spreading beneath his mask. “Boom.”

“You’re a lunatic,” Eve said.

“Come now,” the man replied. “Be fair. I’m a genius. Wars are very profitable if you happen to be in the arms business. And there’s nothing quite like a terrorist attack to kick off a war.” He put a hand to his mask, almost revealing the face beneath. “And, of course, it gives me a chance for revenge. Revenge on the country that cast me out like a leper.”

He pressed a red button.

“You have four hours, Miss Westby.”

Eve smiled as the ropes that had bound her fell to the floor, leaving only thin red lines around her wrists and ankles.

“You have four seconds,” she replied.

Word Count: 200

This is for Sunday Photo Fiction!

14 thoughts on “Four Minutes

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  1. Oh nice. She’s a female James Bond stopping the terrorist or terrorist like bad guy and his evil plans. Wish you had space to describe he man’s end.

    Liked by 1 person

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