A quick bit of fiction
Nov. 23rd, 2005 12:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
winneganfakeDid this up for a post-apocalyptic RPG as a bit of pro-bono practice. Anyways, check it out, any critiques, etc are as always, more than welcome.
11/20/----
Snow crunches silently under my boots as I make my way through the deserted maze of cars and trucks backed up on the expressway.
Everything is so silent now. No talking, no engines, everything we used to take for granted, gone. I haven't seen another person in over a week. Probably better that way. Language is something I miss though. Hearing words roll off of another's tongue, anything to break the silence.
I see a flicker of movement to my left, and turn in an instant, guns ready to speak in tones far louder than any I could manage myself these days. Nothing. Probably just someone's cat gone feral. A shame- would've been decent eating at least, if a little stringy.
No- it's something. I can see a shadow behind a downed Impala, moving up and down in time to a quick ragged breath. I make my way closer- better to deal with a Feral now, rather than have it come up behind me when I'm not ready for it. Stepping around the hood of the car, I can see it- her. Just a kid, she can't be more than nine years old- beat up and ragged in clothes a few sizes too big. Stinks like the devil, but the cold keeps that down at least. Just a kid- who am I fooling. There's no kids left anymore- just old adults and adults made too young by the Pulse.
She looks up at me, and I can see her hands- fingernails long and ragged as the rest of her, harden up into claws, ready to rip away at me. Then I look into her eyes- clear gray and utterly lost. Feral. Stop thinking of it as a she. It's an it. Do what you have to do and-
She leaps. My hands know their job better than my brain does. Thunder echoes across the white landscape, breaking the snow-filled silence for a moment.
I carry the body for a mile, until I reach an exit ramp and can get down to the ground. Hands chapped from the cold, I dig into the loose, frozen soil of a playground- the grave isn't very deep by the time I'm exhausted, but it'll do. I place her in it. cover her, and put a few rocks at the head, just in case anyone else comes this way.
As I turn to head back onto the ramp, I see a small spot of color against the white of the snow. The remnants of a yarn bracelet. Must've ripped off when I placed the body in the grave. Black thread spells out the name "Laurie" against a pink and purple background. I put the bracelet in my pocket and start walking. five more miles to go today- and those clear gray eyes will be with me for every step.
11/20/----
Snow crunches silently under my boots as I make my way through the deserted maze of cars and trucks backed up on the expressway.
Everything is so silent now. No talking, no engines, everything we used to take for granted, gone. I haven't seen another person in over a week. Probably better that way. Language is something I miss though. Hearing words roll off of another's tongue, anything to break the silence.
I see a flicker of movement to my left, and turn in an instant, guns ready to speak in tones far louder than any I could manage myself these days. Nothing. Probably just someone's cat gone feral. A shame- would've been decent eating at least, if a little stringy.
No- it's something. I can see a shadow behind a downed Impala, moving up and down in time to a quick ragged breath. I make my way closer- better to deal with a Feral now, rather than have it come up behind me when I'm not ready for it. Stepping around the hood of the car, I can see it- her. Just a kid, she can't be more than nine years old- beat up and ragged in clothes a few sizes too big. Stinks like the devil, but the cold keeps that down at least. Just a kid- who am I fooling. There's no kids left anymore- just old adults and adults made too young by the Pulse.
She looks up at me, and I can see her hands- fingernails long and ragged as the rest of her, harden up into claws, ready to rip away at me. Then I look into her eyes- clear gray and utterly lost. Feral. Stop thinking of it as a she. It's an it. Do what you have to do and-
She leaps. My hands know their job better than my brain does. Thunder echoes across the white landscape, breaking the snow-filled silence for a moment.
I carry the body for a mile, until I reach an exit ramp and can get down to the ground. Hands chapped from the cold, I dig into the loose, frozen soil of a playground- the grave isn't very deep by the time I'm exhausted, but it'll do. I place her in it. cover her, and put a few rocks at the head, just in case anyone else comes this way.
As I turn to head back onto the ramp, I see a small spot of color against the white of the snow. The remnants of a yarn bracelet. Must've ripped off when I placed the body in the grave. Black thread spells out the name "Laurie" against a pink and purple background. I put the bracelet in my pocket and start walking. five more miles to go today- and those clear gray eyes will be with me for every step.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-24 04:30 am (UTC)Nice one.
Thanks for posting, you should post your next as well.