Personal Narrative Fiction

Storm recognized a few faces slumped back in their chairs in front of the displays. They were too engrossed in the games to glance up at him.
Young glanced at Storm. “You should consider trying out as a rotary wing pilot. We prioritize anyone qualified as an instructor. That might be you one day, right? A future helicopter pilot instructor. How’s that sound? A bright young guy like you might even decide to train as an officer. Do you think you’re a leader? You look like you could be.”
“Him? Shit!” Ben sniggered as he made himself comfortable behind a console.
“I mean it,” Young said to Storm.

It had been hot inside the van and the afternoon breeze felt good on their faces as they shuffled down the steps. As they stood squinting in the shockingly

I guess so. But don’t go telling a soul about any of it. Not a word.”
“Mate. It stays right here. Between you and me—and your cousin.”
“I’ve already said enough to put the three of us in front of a court martial.”
Hostler reached out his hands and made as if he was about to strangle his friend. “I’ll save them the bother if you want.”
“I mean it. I said more than enough.”
“No, you haven’t. We’re good. Your cousin never gave away any detail.” Hostler saw Young’s troubled face and dropped his gaze down, pretending to search for something he dropped. After a minute or so had passed he grinned.
“Tell you one thing. They got this weather shit sorted.”
“That they have, brother.”
“It’s bloody hot outside today. Whaddya think? Last night someone punched in a clear sky to help us with our recruitment?”
Young laughed. “Could be. It’s the first blue sky day we’ve had in weeks.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Ah well. Must be near dinner time.”
Hostler pushed back his chair. “Let’s pack up.” He used the side of his hand to sweep the pamphlets into a box he pulled from under the table. “Did I ever tell you how much I hate this job?”
“Many times. I reckon we ought to enjoy it because things might not be so quiet around here for much