Sherman B. Mason

The Last Song

“Are you really the one?” the guard asked. His voice was grittier than Melonie expected. Sounding full of dirt and dust. She contemplated not acknowledging him but saw no immediate victory in defiance. “Yes,” Melonie muttered softly, “It’s me.” The guard took a moment to look her over, not sure if he was more disgusted at her willingness to admit her crime or saddened that she had seemingly lost all hope. The Reset had taken everything. All electricity had been gone for years, but the humble roar of torch flames or candles was more evident that night. They seem to blend well with the musty basement Melonie was being held in.