Writing prompt #1.

 A radiant, blinding light filled the hotel room. Stretching to every corner and 

crevasse, filling them up with it's unnatural brilliance. Alex grimaced at 

the piercing light, pulling his blankets over his head like a cowl and crawling out 

of his bed.  The two lamps in the room scintillated and flicked till the bulbs 

inside fractured into a million pieces. The Outlets sparked fiercely and his phone  

charger became engulfed in flames and grew down the cord. Reaching the end,  

within an instant of touching the phone, it exploded. Alex, watching all of this,  

pressed himself up against his bed, dodging the pieces of flying phone. The 

digital clock burst immediatly after.  The blinding light from the window

reached him even in the supposed shadow of his bed. It left no place 

untouched.  In his homemade head covering, he ran for the dresser where his 

sunglasses ensconce themselves. The light completely washed out his skin in a 

brilliant white and rendered him momentarily sightless. Alex pulled the blankets 

over his legs, wishing he had worn pants, instead of shorts, to bed. He blindly 

reached for the dresser and crammed his Aviators  on his face and glanced 

around. Black spots danced in his view and the  combination of the light and his 

sunglasses  covered the room in an odd yellowish tint. Activity outside his 

window caught his  attention and he slowly rolled his head in the direction of his 

window. Alex edged towards the glass, unable to comprehend what he saw. 

People lay prostrate on the ground, trying to shield themselves from the light. 

Screams echoed against the sky scrapers of New York City. Every Atm, street 

vendor, soda machine, anything connected to electricity, exploded together. Alex 

squinted from behind his Aviators, trying to find the source of the light. Yet, it 

seemed to come from everywhere, the pavement, the windows, the cars, and 

even the trees. No one could escape it.

    Fire burned in the streets and riots of people ran around, like ants after their 

hill was recked. Eyes closed, they smacked and trampled each other, searching 

for a safe haven.

Right down the center of the street, off in the distance, stood a power plant. 

Unlike everything else electric in the city, it hadn't erupted. It grew brighter and 

more dazzling by the second, so did the filling light. Alex stood in the window, 

perfectly outlined in his shorts, white, cut-off t-shirt, and glistening Aviators. His

special forces tattoo seemed to glow on his inner arm, reflecting the light, as 

was everything else. He could see the city flawlessly. Nothing was hidden from 

him. Even the Apache helicopters that flew down the street, incredibly close to 

the buildings. The beat of the blades matched his beating heart. They flew with 

purpose, straight towards the power plant. Two missiles were released from 

each bird. They flew with an even greater purpose. The detonation vibrated the 

city to it's core.
   
     A powerful wind swept away from the plant and into the city. It 

blew out all the windows as it hit. Alex ran for the protection of the bed, taking 

cover beside it, away from the full length windows. The energy wind spilt the 

glass and move into the room with a hurricane worthy force. The furniture was 

pushed from their places and tossed about the room. The bed, where Alex hid, 

was launch at the wall. Alex felt the wind send him into the wall, the bed 

following. Alex yanked his arm from where it had been driven through the 

drywall. He fell flat as the bed was hurdled after him, crushing him against the 

rough carpet. The wind moved on and Alex was left trapped under the bed, 

silence filling the bedroom. He lay, facing the wall, one arm under him, the other 

stretched above his head twisted at an odd angle. He felt every inch of his body 

being crushed with the weight and the remainders of his phone digging into his 

side. He slowly brought his twisted arm back to his body, groaning as he twisted 

it farther to the side. Trying to bring himself to his hands and knees, his 

shirt rip on his broken phone. The furniture above him creaked as he moved it 

off himself. With one final yell, he lifted it above his head and slipped through 

the crack he had created. The bed fell with a crash, the dresser perched on top 

of it. He panted with the effort, his hands hanging limply at his side. The suites 

he had hung so carefully in the closet had been viciously whipped out and torn 

to shreds. Clothes hung out of the dresser drawers and about the room. Alex 

moved carefully, trying not to step on the broken glass. He picked up his locked 

brief case and punched in the passcode. It popped open and he selected one of 

the five cell phones that were mixed among the seven different passports. He 

pressed only two numbers before holding it to his ear. It rang once, then twice, 

then stopped. There was silence on the other end.

    "Houston," Alex spoke softly. "We have a problem." He stepped across the 

broken glass to the edge of the window and let his toes hang over the edge. 

    "Agreed." said a monotone voice on the other end. Alex let his ripped shirt be

tossed in the wind as he felt the phone grow hot in his hand. A funny sensation 

ran down his side and he discovered that he had been cut. He pulled a piece of 

cell phone from his side and brought his hand to his face. Blood. That was 

nothing new to him.

    "Abort misson, Houston." said the voice. It didn't show on the outside, but 

Alex could feel his world crumbling within him. A total darkness starting in his 

heart and moving to his head.

    He tried to reply, but a pressure grew in his throat, for the first time ever. He 

wasn't aware that he was capable of emotions, let alone crying. They had made 

sure of that a long time ago. A straggled, "Yes, Sir." escaped his throat, but he 

made no attempt to correct it.

    "Goodbye, Houston." the voice said. Alex knew it was the last time he would 

hear that terrible voice, and somewhere deep inside, he was glad. He dropped

the phone out the window and watched it burn, never hitting the ground. As he 

took in the view from the twentieth floor, the lights went out all over the city.  

The cries of the people were silenced, only to be brought back up to maximum 

volume, in an never ending crescendo. 
    
    Alex sighed, but silently laughed to himself. 

  'And I thought I would have a free weekend."