|Home So Far Away
Author: Writer Awakened PM
A little flag is drafted to the Minesweeper front lines. Little does he know what horrors would await him...a Minesweeper fic! Read and review...really. Please?Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor/Friendship - Words: 954 - Reviews: 13 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 2 - Published: 01-10-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2213899
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Home So Far Away
My first Minesweeper fic! A custom Minesweeper game. Maxed-out dimensions. Mines galore. A flag has been deployed from his home in Flagville. Now he sits on the Minesweeper front lines, waiting and wondering when he will be able to mark the dangerous space that marks a mine…Read and review please!
-The tension is killing me…
The little flag sighed to himself. He was waiting in a mud-filled trench. A hole had been dug overlooking their little bit of Hell. The minefield was ahead, the looming chaotic avatar of the yellow smiley lay ahead, surveying the battle. The hand in the sky hovered over the board, index finger outstretched. It followed the board, seemingly pondering what to do. So far the battlefield was untouched, but it was sure to change.
The little flag waited. He wished he could go out there- to protect his friends from the horror of the mines. He had to save his fellow flags. He had to save…the hand. There was nothing more. He kept his eyes ahead. The little flag had a name. It was Fredrick Lag.
"Hey, Freddie!" said the other flag. Fred turned his cloth towards the flag.
"What is it?" Fred asked.
The other flag smiled. "You remember my name, man?"
"Um…um…" Fred said, racking his brain for the answer. Then he remembered. "Mark, wasn't it?"
The other flag smiled. "Yeah, it's Mark. Remember? I was the one who told you that story about back home. My wife just gave birth to two sheets."
Fred smiled. "Oh yeah! I remember now! I'm sorry, I'm just so nervous, I…"
"Don't worry about it." Mark said. He sighed, and slit a match, putting it to his mouth. "I just hope they grow up to be good little flags…" Mark sifted through his pocket and pulled out a picture. He looked at it for a while, and then broke into tears. Water dripped down his fabric and onto the 2X2 picture.
Fred sighed, looking as Mark as he cried. He looked over at the battlefield from his vantage point. It looked as though something were about to happen. The giant hand hovered over the board, and then, in one swift moment, dropped. Many of the flags gasped.
"The hand's dropping! Brace yourself, flags!" said the leader of the squadron, Sergeant Banner. "Get ready!!!!!"
The hand lowered and pressed against the square on the ground. Everything happened so fast. A lot of other squares also cleared, about ten in all. Some squares had numbers appear on them. In blue, several 1's appeared. In green, several 2's appeared. In red, two 3's appeared. And one dark blue 4 appeared pasted on the ground.
"A big clear! A big clear, flags! We're getting ahead!" Sergeant Banner yelled, the wind blowing him every which way.
The hand again dropped, revealing another blank square. And then, the hour of truth. The hand hovered over a large button far on the horizon. He pressed it down. The button said "Control."
"HERE WE GO FLAGS!!!!!" Sergeant Banner said. "Control has been pressed! We gotta move….when that hand drops!"
"This is it, buddy…." Mark said. He gulped, but he looked ahead, his fabric steely. His lines were focused clearly on the battle ahead. "one of us is going out!"
The hand hovered back to the battlefield, next to one of the 1 squares, and lowered itself. CLICK. It was time for the marker. The flag.
"I'M GOING OUT!!!!!!!" Mark yelled, jumping up and charging out of the trench. Headlong, he rushed.
"MARK!!!" Fred yelled. He started out after him, but the Sergeant stopped him.
"Let him go, son." Banner said. "It'll be your turn, soon."
And indeed it was. The hand had clicked some more, and again depressed the "control" button. He clicked on a spot next to a big 1.
Fred took a deep breath, steeled himself. And then he charged. Across the field, to the square. He ran over and stood, marking where the mine lay.
Time passed, and the hand continued to reveal, rushing through the board. More flags came out to mark more squares. But now it was down to a small area. At this point, it was luck.
Fred looked up and saw the hand. It was shaking. It was nervous. It was sweating. In the middle of nowhere. This was it. The hand was making a leap of faith. Fred knew before the hand hit the ground. He knew what was going to happen.
Time seemed to stop. The mine was below. Fred knew. He just knew. And yet, the hand did not. Fred reflected on what had been. He had been dating a sweet lady flag, Miss Elizabeth Flypaper. It was getting serious. And then, Fred had been drafted to the front lines. Fred remembered, in a split second, his mother, his father, his two brothers, his three sisters, and his flame. He thought about Mark, and his family, his baby sheets who would grow to become great flags. He thought about the good-hearted sergeant. But as the hand came down, the last thing he thought about was that yellow smiley. The yellow smiley that hung, detached, uncaring, so far above them. That looked down upon them. It didn't care about their fate. It only cared about the next game…
The hand came down. A mine. And all the other mines exploded. The flags were torn apart, the fabric ripped to shreds in the blast.
The last thing the little flag saw was the giant yellow smiley, frowning. And the hovering hand preparing…for the next game…