The Smuggling Gig

 

The Smuggling Gig

By Craig Wilson

The smoke clears. I see several warehouses.

I believe I am now in the Docks District.

I do not recall visiting this district, however.

I hear a female voice in my right earpiece.

I am reminded that I am here to smuggle food.

I don't remember signing up for this job.

I shrug. I grab my black bag. I move slowly.

I sneak into the warehouse. I dump the food.

A flash of light appears. I flee the vicinity.

I hear angry voices. My heart races wildly.

I jump a fence. I end up leaving this dream.

The End

The above story is a loose adaptation of a dream I had. If there is anything you would like to ask, feel free to leave a comment, and thank you for reading.