Short Story
Dust
The sun shone down upon man and field, burning and revealing parched crags in both. The summer heat was unrestrained by wispy clouds, nor tempered by humid haze. As he walked along dead and dusty fields, one hand massaged the other, as the twisting of age caught up to him. He stooped and gathered a handful of dirt. Running his hand through, dry silty-brown, crumbled earth more like sand than topsoil. As his experienced hands rubbed the dirt, it blew away in the mild wind leaving nothing but desiccated insects, as even they need water to live. He examined the dead insects, and the dry crumbled earth, no life left in the soil any longer. He turned his sharp blue eyes to the horizon as he stood. Huge clouds of dust were blowing west in the clear blue sky, taking the topsoil that made this the breadbasket of the world and sending it to smother distant lands, not stopping until it hit the front range, or Denver perhaps. He turned and continued walking back toward his distant home. The striking old-style farmhouse painted in fading colors, had seen better days. His path, not walked frequently, was strewn with debris. He had to pay close attention as he walked, with the new pains and swelling in all his joints it became more difficult to walk every day. His eyes squinted with remembered pain, as he recalled his wife teasing him for being too serious, walking this way often.
By Brian Amonette5 years ago in Fiction
Her
The world will never be the same. I will never be the same. The big bang, as some of us ironically called it after it happened, was the start of what I think of as the anti-creation, the opposite of when the big bang formed our universe. The memories of most of those who I gathered with in the beginning are gone. We barely remembered who each other was to begin with. Or how we got here. Now, instead of helping each other to survive, they see me and each other as enemies. Competition for the scarce resources around us. I stay away from them and all others. Rats. Scroungers, as I refer to them now.
By Tessa L Petry5 years ago in Fiction
From the Cotton Clouds
These cotton clouds are gonna kill us one day, thought Michael. As he looked out of the lounge window weeks after the Moment, as some people called it, or the Summer Snow event going by others’ description, he wondered why the city had turned on itself.
By David Boatswain5 years ago in Fiction
Nuclear Nowhere
Six months ago, Chris and I had been sitting in a cafe in the French Quarter, watching the small elevated TV set in the corner for the news while sipping lattes together. He held my hand across the small wrought iron table. He glanced at me occasionally for my reaction. The news was disturbing but neither of us could really remember a time when it wasn’t. It was easy to become anxious about these headlines surrounding the tension building with axis countries over trade disputes and sanctions but we both thought it would resolve. These things usually did resolve. We could not have been more wrong.
By Heather Foster5 years ago in Fiction
Ruination
© Copyright 2021, Tyler Dean Milligan. All rights reserved. Year 2045 (Old Divide, Colorado) It’s been 20 years since the United States was hit by an EMP (Electromagnetic pulse). In the first year alone 90% of the American population had died. After the EMP, people couldn’t simply flip on a light switch anymore. No running water, food, or Medicine. No computers, or cell phones to hear if your loved ones were ok. No GPS to tell you how to get to the nearest grocery store. In order to survive, most people had to band together. Survival groups were the best way to ensure one’s safety.
By Tyler Dean Milligan5 years ago in Fiction
A Ranger's Life
My name is Elyana Rose. I am the oldest of three, but sadly I am the last of my tribe. My village was invaded just over a year ago, but I managed to escape into a nearby forest and I’ve lived in that forest alone ever since. I don’t necessarily like visiting towns, but I don’t really hate it either. I just prefer to be out in the wilderness. I’m twenty-one years old, and most people in my village were viewed as adults at the age of sixteen, which was the age my youngest brother was when I found him behind the house with a dagger in his stomach. I felt bad for leaving my village, but I was raised to believe that nature allows the strong to thrive and only the weak perish. Of course, I strive to make sure their names become legend, but I guess nature thought I was the only one strong enough to do it. Living in the wild has taught me to respect nature and I believe that nature is more important than the civilizations built that destroy it. I once read about a region called Solaria where nature is held to such a high regard. I really want to visit there one day, which is why I decided that I wanted to start an adventure. Solaria is just across the ocean and doesn’t seem like much of an adventure, so I’ve decided I want to make it a point to eventually travel to every region.
By Brilainey Creates5 years ago in Fiction
