Within the barriers of a destroyed world a lone car sits, enclosed by the ashes of my life. It waits patiently for the dead light to turn green, but nothing has been green since that day, I don’t even know if it still exists. Beneath this decaying bridge a cold hollow river corrodes the lifeless remains of a once inhabited city. It used to be my home, but now I don’t know what to call it. Lost deep in the clouds of the explosion a single crow who is searching for any sign of life, flies in silence upon the building. I know what that feels like, I have been doing the same for over six months now. Lingering in and around the building carcases a burnt smell contaminates the air, so strong I can almost taste it. A thick canopy of smog cloaks the parched city, untouched since the outbreak.

You’re probably wondering what i’m on about, so here’s how it went. After the disease struck nothing has been the same. The first death was in my home town on Friday 13 April 2091, then it spread. Everyone started dropping like flies, and I mean everyone the hospitals were crowded with dying souls, even the animals had caught the disease. No one could figure out what it was, or how to cure it. Then the government took charge and decided to bomb my city to stop the outbreak.

When they bombed everyone died, except me, at least that’s what I think. Information about the bomb was leaked just days before it hit, and as my whole family had already been lost to the disease I took cover. I was in an underground bunker when it hit and when I came out everything was demolished, gone, everyone, my family, my friends, everyone, wiped out. “You’re one of the lucky ones” my brother had said to me as his dying words, yet I still question that. I was the only lucky one and I was left in this city alone, abandoned, and crowded by the leftovers of my torn apart life. Everyday I see corpses staring back at me, there’s even days when I recognise them, burned and rotting, I hate those days.

I was one of the few immune to the disease, but I was the only one to survive both the outbreak and the bomb.  Each day I roam the streets in search for food and shelter, I was told those are the only things you need to survive, it seemed simple enough, but they never told me it would be this hard. I have explored over half the city, rummaging through the left overs of the detonation, yet I still have only found a limited amount of food. I guess that what you get when someone bombs your city. No one else out there knew I was here, alive, apart from me and the crow in the sky above.

 

The street that was strewn with litter was totally deserted.

He who was humming to himself walked down the middle of the street

The dark city, that was drowning in the water, died slowly. The citizens, who cried their last words, sunk down with it. the last lights, that reflected the deathly water, died.

Between the barriers a lone car sits, enclosed by the glum fog, waiting patiently for the frozen light to turn green. Beneath the extensively decaying bridge a cold grey river surrounds the remenants of the once inhabited city. Above, lost deep in the clouds of the explosion, a single pig flies in silence upon the building, searching for any sign of life. On the crumbling bridge vigilant soldiers await the unknown, prepared for battle. Within the caged building dust coats the lifeless factory, untouched since the war.

Between the barriers a lone car sits, enclosed by the glum fog, waiting patiently for the frozen light to turn green. Beneath the decaying bridge a cold grey river surrounds the remenants of the once inhabited city. Above, lost in the clouds of the explosion, a single pig flies upon the building searching for any sign of life. On the bridge vigilant soldiers await the unknown, prepared for battle. Within the caged building dust coats the lifeless factory, untouched since the war.

Shuffling down the corridor your heart begins to race. The familiar smell of hairspray lingers around you. You can feel the essence of the audience on the other side of the wall, applauding for the previous number. Every time you have been here you were in that transe. That transe of reciting over and over every single move you have practiced. Right now nothing is more important than this…  

Its show time.

Between the barriers a lone car sits, enclosed by the glum fog, waiting patiently for the light to turn green. Beneath the bridge a cold grey river surrounds the remenants of the once inhabited city. Above, lost in the clouds a single pig flies upon the building searching for any sign of life. On the bridge guards await the unknown, prepared for battle. Within the building dust coats the lifeless factory, untouched since the war.