Doug cradled his coffee cup in his numb fingers as he warmed his weary bones beside the fire. Far to the east, a dome of light illuminated the night sky: The city from which they had fled, where electricity and heat and comfort were plentiful.
A fellow refugee glared at the dome and raised a clenched fist into the air. “Fucking robots.”
“Boys and girls,” said Doug, “the human race needs to fight back. It’s now or never.”
Gaunt faces all around nodded approval in the glow of the campfire. “Aye,” said one. None noticed the drone overhead.
An entry for this weeks Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The idea is to write, in 100 words or less, a story based on the week’s photo prompt. Thus far, I’m always over 100 words, although for this weeks entry I think I’m pretty much spot on. I never could keep my crayon inside the damn lines! 😛