Emelia Elliott
Stories (1/0)
Fallax
A slight breeze rustled through the narrow streets, disturbing an old newspaper that had been discarded long ago, the ink so faded that no words could be distinguished on the yellowing paper. There was litter everywhere on the dusty road; syringes, random broken bits of plastic and food wrappers that had been licked clean of any remnants of sustenance. The buildings, which had at one time been cheap but fairly comfortable housing, were mostly dilapidated now, with smashed windows, crumbling brickwork, and some walls that were entirely exposed. There were dusty tarpaulins and bits of canvas hung up to replace the missing walls, where people were still trying to eke out a living in the increasingly dangerous surroundings. The only aspect of the town that was still in perfect condition was the small screens, cased in bullet-proof glass, that were attached to wooden poles in regular intervals along each street. A brightly coloured advert was playing on all of them simultaneously, with attractive, healthy people injecting themselves with some kind of blue liquid, surrounded by their equally healthy, equally attractive family.
By Emelia Elliott3 years ago in Fiction