Hello my fellow writers, I hope you are all well. I’m more of a hobby writer, if I see an incredible prompt I can't help but write something for it. I may not be the best writer but it helps me to forget the annoyances of the real world.
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space or so they say. But what use is a scream when you're unconscious within seconds from lack of oxygen? The human mind is programmed to bypass that logic, to think that if you ever found yourself in a situation where your life was in danger, a scream would save you. But nothing could be further from the truth and a scream would cause your demise rather than your salvation.
Children rode their bikes through the street, laughing and playing, not a care in the world. Until they come to a stop at the large brick house. Not much is known about the owners who moved in a few months ago. They know that it was a young couple that moved in and that the man leaves the house once a day and comes back a few hours later. But the real mystery is the young woman, who sits on a rocking chair in the second-storey window.
Light shone through the window as if it was directed specifically to this one room, something was off about this light though, it wasn't bright, it had a dullness to it that seemed as though the life was being sucked from it as it entered. His dull and lifeless eyes scanned the room in search of one spec of hope that his life hadn't crumbled to nothing. But all he saw was an empty room with one rocky chair placed in front of the window, which faced out onto to the courtyard from the second-story of his once life enriched home. He didn't think that it was the roses or the sun his wife found so fascinating about this window, he didn't believe she was really looking at anything as she moved back and forth in the wooden chair. Lifting the glass filled with an amber liquid, he could only a assume was some type of liquor, to her lips.
Surviving in an unsurvivable world.
Past, Present, Future. There’s no difference. Survival is all that matters now. Walking through a long forgotten town, where debris litters the streets and buildings a covered in the vines of the close by forest that reclaimed this area long ago. Wearing what could only be described as tattered rags and holding a rifle with a machete strapped to my back. It’s hard to think back to a time when this wasn’t my life.