Two land in fingers of light. Consider the inhabitants. This new place is brighter, though maybe for worse, they think.
What instinct guides a being to move on? What catches in the spirit and signals where to stop, where to begin again?
These two peered in a window, not seeing glass but a barrier. These two were only scouts, the harbingers of change for a whole – what? colony? tribe? civilization? Harbingers.
Somehow we are never paying attention. The beginnings of change, the largest of threats – these begin as quietly as a moth lands. In the still sleeping morning.
For more flashes prompted by this image, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Madison Woods and explore the Friday Fictioneers.