The Boulevard at LastThe boulevard at last, we have finally made it through the city; our salvation lies ahead. I think we are safe for the moment. At least, we are as safe as we can be in this plagued nightmare. We should stop and rest; there are no signs of those beasts anywhere and we will need all of our energy to make it out of the city. If my calculations are correct, we have about two miles until we hit the bridge and nine miles to our sanctuary.The Boulevard at Last12 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We do not have long though. Our pheromones make us tempting entrées out here in the open. I still cannot believe how the immunization has mutated; it never should have caused this type of reaction. I swear we are living in some type of butterfly effect. Damn, I wish I had brought a gun. Yes, these vile beasts can be can be killed at close range with a targeted blow to the head, but I would still prefer to distance myself from them. Are you about ready to move again?
Great, just in time. Look, over by the Console Energy Center, here they come. Damn, the
Sylva I was hungry enough to be considered crazy. I had started eating my skin and rat shit. A brittle stream of sunlight hits me across the face. I spit up blood, it coats the roof of my mouth in a thin, salty film. I swallow. My hand rests against the concrete floor; it is wet with urine.Sylva9 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I crawl to the light. The thin idea of freedom on the pads of my fingers as they tear against the crude rock face. I hang from the bars; the setting sun burned my face. But it felt good, like the sting of hot water on a winter day. A few wisps of clouds rested in the sky along with the charred shadows of pine trees.
Danny's blue pick up was outside, parked in the driveway, the door left open. I rested my fingertips against the glass. They had promised they would come back. I longed from my kid tire swing, the barn whose horses had been eaten like chicken.
They were outside. Their figures bloody
Concrete The world was black and red - drawn out and frozen. The thumb between the East and the West painted with a frayed brush. The gunfire had turned eerily quiet all but drowned out by the beating of my heart; a sound that quivered gently like a pulled bow. I fell to my knees, aware only of my pistol clutched knuckle white. A match ignited blazing dirty harry, the fire as red as a man's blood ran down a trail of wrecked second hands pulling the gunfire upward.Concrete9 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It was the end of the fucking world. I was in the middle of the last battle of the human race. The bullets were as thick as rain. They made little wet pops as they found their way into my belly. I watched the sky, subdued almost by the prospect of death. The stars faded behind helicopter lights, but the moon this world's only constant remained still. Jesus Christ I was going to die. My arms feel broken. Its as if one of the bullets had severed