They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Gazing deeply into Sylvia's eyes I see only a vast wasteland. Devoid of emotion, intellect. Forlorn in their absence of knowledge. Too bad. Our meeting earlier had shown such promise. I had truly hoped to learn more from our intimacy. Removing my blade from her heart, I wipe it on her chest. Ah well; perhaps the next one.
About the Creator
Andrew C McDonald
Andrew McDonald is a 911 dispatcher of 30 yrs with a B.S. in Math (1985). He served as an Army officer 1985 to 1992, honorably exiting a captain.
https://www.amazon.com/Killing-Keys-Andrew-C-McDonald-ebook/dp/B07VM843XL?ref_=ast_author_dp
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Wasteland
I trudge across a barren landscape dotted with blasted remnants of our once thriving civilization. I pray to find a sign of human life. Swollen tongue begs for just a drop of water. Stomach rumbles, angry at the emptiness. Skin reddened, peeling. A silo rears above the landscape. Its tilt reminds me of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Perhaps some untainted grain or a rain barrel. Wearily, I plod on. A chittering noise. Sound unexpected in vast cocoon of silence. A squirrel? Hard to tell with patchy fur oozing pestilence. Edible? Doubtful. Six days ago they pushed the button. Wonder who won? Either way, life after a nuclear holocaust does not seem to hold much promise. At least it's quiet.
By Andrew C McDonaldabout a year ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
So dark and evil but so well done!