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The Sixth Call for Help
From the desk of Doctor Henry Fitzsimmons It was before dawn on April 3 when the first call came in. A flight test gone wrong ended in the pilot ejecting from her jet over the Atlantic Ocean. The first search attempt turned up little more than a chewed-up parachute floating not far from other bits of wreckage. It was assumed that she had either drowned or fallen prey to sharks. She was awarded posthumous honors for her service.
By John Dodge3 years ago in Fiction
A Man, a Door, and a Window
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Every so often when he came to check on her, he would forget to close the door to his room before he opened the door to hers, and in the space where they overlapped was the sight of everything she could only imagine. There were times when she was certain he was doing it on purpose, even if he would never admit it. It would have been cruel if not for how sad it all was.
By John Dodge3 years ago in Fiction
