Walker Powell
Stories (1/0)
The Unnamed Wanderer
He whistled as he walked, every left step accompanied by the soft thud of a walking stick held in his opposite hand, or was a bow, yes, a bow. He held an unstrung bow, standing at least a head taller than he was. The pleasant tune he whistled echoed off the toppled brick building to his right, and the standing concrete building's columns to his left. What once was grey concrete was now covered with dirt and grime so intensely it produced a faded yellow with green at the base where the building touched the brick walkway. Moss stretched its way along a deep crack toward the roof of the structure. The path was lined with concrete boxes covered in stone veneer, which at one point, held flowers and not grayish soil and dead trees. What used to be a beautiful pedestrian walking mall was now littered with loose bricks from the collapsed building, piles of trash, and small animals like the rabbit running past his path now.
By Walker Powell3 years ago in Futurism