The tribe was lost in the desert for a long time. Mickey kept them moving and did what he could to keep their spirits up, but the echoing darkness was vast. So long without food, his tribe teetered on the brink. The littlest ones cried and their mothers glared at Mickey in anger.
Dancing Mickey only laughed and kept dancing. “Keep going, the Promised Land is near.”
Out of the darkness arose a tiny, blinking light. As prophesied—“The LED will show you the way”—the way to an entire container of AA batteries; food for the chosen people at last.
100 words, for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt:
ParkInkSpot 