Kai Michelle
Bio
I question daily if writing is the thing killing me or keeping me alive.
Does the world deserve anything less than the perpetually tortured writer dressed in black? I think not.
I exist so I write. Sometimes I post it here ❤️
Stories (2)
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Chaos
Daylight came streaming in through the cheap metal blinds that were hanging in the narrow window. Chris laid still, watching the sunlit lines slowly climb across the quilt that covered his stomach and legs. Sleep had not easily come the night before. He knew the apartment was as safe as a place could be these days, but it was not soundproof. The screeching and banging had carried on until just before dawn, and even in his exhaustion, he had not been able to close his eyes for more than ten minutes at a time. “I should be used to this by now,” he moaned dryly. His back ached from the lumpy mattress he had carried over from the destroyed apartment across the hall. The small room he had chosen to shelter in was the cleanest he could find, but it was still garbage-strewn and the air was rancid. Sitting up, his muscles ached from the tense night. He had known better than to travel alone this far south, the woods farther north were almost untouched by the terror in the city. As Samantha had died slowly from cancer that came before the chaos, he had promised her he would find other survivors, that he would not be alone. “Bullshit,” he said gruffly, shaking his head, tears stinging his eyes.
By Kai Michelle5 years ago in Fiction
