Brenda K Moore
Stories (1/0)
Dystopian Destiny
The reflection in the material of the dome surrounding my home showed a young female with short hair, gray eyes and a sad expression on her face. Staring at the reflection of the golden chain that held the purple heart-shaped locket, I watched as the reflection also sighed. My mind drifted back, back to a time when the cool wind caressed my skin, when the smell of fresh air was intoxicating, and the grass swayed back and forth in the breeze. Back before the Incident, as we referred to it these days. I remembered explosions, smoke, screams; most of all the screams, as our world slowly dissolved into nothing. Those long days when Lucas and I limped wearily from place to place looking for food, water, anything.
By Brenda K Moore 3 years ago in Futurism