My second attempt at InMon this week. The first I’ve posted. It’s kind of an attempt to write flash-fiction. I wasn’t planning on it but it turned into it. It’s the beauty of writing with no plan at all.
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Crimson sky. The screams of both dying and dead. Chaos wreaking havoc on the busy streets. Crushing, thronging crowds. The cry of a week old baby. And the scream of his mother as he went still.
I can smell their fear. It reeks of sweat as they stampede away from the city. Of unwashed people, ill-prepared for the tests the wild requires of them. The world tastes like death, smoke and salt. Only the salt is unexpected. Of course, it shouldn’t be. Not when fire and brimstone are about to rain down.
Why do I not care? You tell me. But life is slowing to include only death in its dance.
The earth stood still and my world went black.