Flash Fiction Twist

The Last Whistle

Every whistle leads somewhere else. The last one leads home.

Illustration for “The Last Whistle” — Pavel Piatrou

Attention. Do not inflate your life jacket inside the aircraft; it may block your exit. The life jacket inflates automatically after leaving the aircraft by pulling the red tabs.

If it is not fully inflated, blow into the rubber tubes. To attract rescuers, the life jacket has a light and whistle.

The flight attendant suddenly blew the whistle.

Startled, I looked up from my phone.

A stadium. My favorite team was charging toward the opponent’s goal. A shot…

The referee’s whistle.

Offside!

The crowd roared around me. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my hands over my ears.

The whistle faded into a growing horn.

I opened my eyes.

A truck was hurtling straight at me down the autobahn. Its deafening horn pierced my hands and hammered against my eardrums. All I managed to do was shut my eyes again.

The horn dissolved.

Only a gentle rocking remained.

“What a life…” I thought, and opened my eyes.

Open sea stretched in every direction. I drifted on the waves in an orange life jacket. Something cold nudged me in the ribs.

I grabbed the whistle and blew with all my strength.

“Roll over. How long are you going to keep whistling? Let me sleep for once, please!”

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