THE AIR I BREATHE

“Wofos don’t quit, and Wofos never give up,” was the sound that kept ringing in Xizafor’s back ear. Now too weak to stand, veins aching and hunger pangs taking complete control over his frail body, Xizafor took short breaths to preserve the remaining wo-oxygen coming in from a battery powered black hanging tube. Delirious, overheated and all alone, Xizafor sat on the air ship, struggling to remember the codes that would open the two steel doors.

It had been over three weeks since his Wofoians were ambushed right outside of the underground bunker that was camouflaged as old abandoned garage where he was camped out. Desperately trying to survive, Xizafor was still dressed in a human Halloween costume. “Hard to imagine that pretending to be human would save my life,” Wofo groaned.

Five green and two midnight blue Wofos disintegrated that night, breathing air on earth. “Certainly Wofoians back in Wofoland are able to access my air chip to determine my location. I’m running out of wo air”. “I am here,” Xizafor squealed, in a faint sound. “I am here about to inhale the air that humans breathe, the most harmful toxic and polluted air on earth.”

“Wofos don’t quit, and Wofos never give up,” was the sound that kept echoing over and over in Xizafor’s back ear. It was the sound of his father who had died three years ago, after his portable tank ran out of wo-oxygen while visiting earth. Xizafor thought about how he had vowed to continue his father’s mission to fight for clean air. Just the irony that he would meet the same untimely bad-air death as his father, was too much for any Wofo to bear.

Hours passed. All of the wo-oxygen was gone. His head grew smaller, now shrinking. Xizafor’s airways were closing and at least two of his six lungs were now collapsing. With seconds left before he would disintegrate, he raised up his tiny head and with the last bit of strength he could muster, he looked up through the smog-filled opening at the top of the underground bunker.

Not believing his bright shiny eyes, a second tube was being lowered down to him filled with wo-oxygen, the cleanest, purest air that any human or Martian could breathe. Xizafor struggled to reach the tube with his weak tentacle, but managed to place it in his neck. The sound of wo-oxygen flowing and filling up his lungs allowed him to loudly squeal, “Now this is the air I breathe.”

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I hope you have enjoyed this original short story that I created using the art prompt designed by @midlet in the Tell My Story Contest created and sponsored by artist @midlet.

Upvote here under my entry link to help me win the contest. Thank you.

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