Daily Flash Fiction

That Never Happened

Zhask's shuttle sputtered, crash-landing in a cornfield. Panic clawed at him, but a curious girl named Miya offered help. Her father, despite the translator's ramblings, understood. He spent hours fixing the ship, grunting and muttering in a language Zhask couldn't grasp. Miya, meanwhile, regaled him with tales of unicorns and "squirrels" that stole hats.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the man announced, "She flies again, spaceman!" Relief washed over Zhask. He chirped his gratitude, and Miya chirped back, a sound that transcended words. Before leaving, he gifted her a holographic image of them together, a symbol of their unlikely friendship.

Miya grinned, "Anytime, shiny man! Just… don't tell anyone about… you know…" she trailed off, pointing at the sky.
Zhask blinked, confused. But before he could ask, Miya's father emerged, sheepish. "About that spaceship, Miya… It never flew. Just your imagination, sweetheart."

Miya pouted, but a twinkle remained in her eyes. "That never happened," she whispered, winking at Zhask.
Zhask smiled. He wouldn't reveal their secret. He lifted into the starlit sky, leaving behind a broken machine and a friend, a memory etched in the language of laughter and shared wonder.

"That never happened," he murmured, a soft chirp escaping his lips. But the curve of his smile told a different story.

WORD COUNT: 214 Words
WRITTEN FOR: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"  | "Winner for 1/17 and prompt for 1/18"  
PROMPT: Write a story that includes the line: “That never happened.”