Rosario’s heart pounds in her ears and her knuckles are white from the death grip she has on the armrests. She holds her breath and closes her eyes as the landing gear touches down on the rotting blacktop. The passenger plane comes to a skidding stop just before the runway plunges over the side of a mountain. It shutters one last time and the pilot kills the engines.
“You can open your eyes now child,” the goat man says. “We’re here.”
Still wary, she follows him out of the plane and over the plateau’s edge, down a series of stairs that scale the mountainside, until they reach a hamlet not unlike the last one.
I have to apologize for the overage this week. There was just so much to cram into those 100 words this week! Thanks again to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers!