Ficlets

Distress Call

Jo had an eye for news, an ear for language, and a nose for trouble.

Specifically, she had a nose for finding it.

She was dial surfing on her HAM radio, as she usually did at night, when something caught her ear. It wasn’t unusual to hear another language on amatur radio. However, this seemed to be different; Jo couldn’t recognise it at all. But from the tone of the speaker she made it out to be a distress call.

Then the signal went dead.

Moments later, a deafaning crash split the air outside the basment window. Jo thundered up the stairs to investigate.
Outside lay a smouldering pile of metal, trailing a ditch of a scuff mark behind it. She made it out to be a sort of pod-like thing. She peered closly at it. No, she thought. It couldn’t be.
Running her hand over the smooth metal, Jo would’ve never guessed what this could lead to.

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