Doomsday Diary Challenge
As I walked down the old, abandoned street, I realized I could barely remember what it looked like before the carnage, the bombings, before it all went to hell. To the right of me was the park. The beautiful rhododendrons would be in full bloom and the breeze would blow the petals across the grass. Now, in their place, were broken trees, swing sets ripped from their places in the ground, old picnic tables torn and strewn about. The other side of the street was the Farmers Market. Rubble and turned over cars littered the street that once buzzed with electricity. Merchants selling their wares and customers bartering for the newest in organic vegetables and fried food. I have been asked the question several times since the end. Where was I when someone pushed the button. I was here with my family. We were sitting in the park munching on hotdogs and waiting for next band to come out on stage. Suddenly there was a loud “BOOM” and we saw something hit the Interstate bridge. Then the chaos seemed to take a movement like a slow-motion picture. We watched the freeway bridge, and its cars slowly snap each cable support and slide into the cold river.
