EVER-ROLLING STREAM
The man’s
complexion had paled to a dirty grey with pain when the small plane took off
from Lusaka.
“All
right back there?” the pilot called over the drone of the engine.
“The
surgeon’s waiting in Johannesburg,” Doctor Luke replied, “Just get us there as quickly
as possible.”
The lovely
landscape flowed by smoothly – until a boiling column of cloud grew out of
nowhere and lifted them thousands of terrfying feet before flinging them
clear.
“That was
close!” the pilot gasped, but then the plane dropped through an airless pocket, and cartwheeled down to
crash in flames on the beautiful, deadly African ground.
..............................................................................
This photograph of a lovely sand-timer was taken by Sandra Crook, one of the writers who post a 100 word story each week for Friday Fictioneers, via Rochelle's blog https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
The words from Isaac Watts' hymn came into my head - "Time, like an ever-rolling stream, bears all its sons away" and I remembered, as I often do, my mother's son, my baby brother Luke. This happened 30 years ago.
Here is a link to read the entire hymn: - http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/hymn-lyrics/o_god_our_help_in_ages_past.htm
Here is a link to read the entire hymn: - http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/hymn-lyrics/o_god_our_help_in_ages_past.htm
