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Molly Willis
Stories (2/0)
The Awakening
First impressions are crucial, or so I’ve been told. Those first few seconds of meeting someone create an impression that will last a lifetime. All I can remember of Reeva are her heart shaped locket and her infectious smile. It’s been two years since the awakening when she was ripped from my arms. I still don’t know if she’s alive or not, but I still see her every night when I close my eyes. As soon as the darkness sets, I see those piercing brown eyes staring so deeply that it seems she sees the innermost, darkest depths of my soul. What I would give just for one more minute. But since it happened, it’s too dangerous to leave whatever shelter survivors were lucky to find before the bombs hit. I guess I should explain just what this great event is we refer to as an awakening. Two years ago, the world was hell, everybody was fighting everybody was wrong nobody was right. Politically correct is what we all strived to be. Anybody who dared go against the grain was brutally punished. Riots had become a way of life, murder was such a normal occurrence that eventually the detectives and police gave up trying to solve them, it was dangerous just to step foot outside your home. Eventually, country turned against country, ally against ally, and then the sirens started. It was a normal June night; it was my turn to make dinner, so I ordered pizza.
By Molly Willis3 years ago in Fiction