Damon Gregory Peterson
Stories (1/0)
Shadow of Ash
An ash cloud hung over the city as if Death draped his cloak over the world blocking almost all of the sun's rays from reaching the stragglers of civilization below. What little light was left was dealt with by the remnants of the buildings that were crumbling around them. Cars lined the streets, derelict and immobile, not that they could be driven anywhere. The roads had decayed so much, that it was more expedient to walk. Though the pothole had become the natural predator to the ankle, evolving its diet with the times. Walking along the dotted lines of the old world’s arteries was a young woman, no younger than seventeen nor older than twenty-three. She navigated past cars and holes, to avoid a sprain or tetanus. Vaccines were rather hard to come by nowadays. She wore fabric over her mouth, but still was coughing up a lung. But she did not stop. That wasn’t a luxury she had.
By Damon Gregory Peterson3 years ago in Fiction