It was raining on the day I was seen for the first time in over a year. One of those muted, heavy rains that dampens sound and mood
An irregular drumbeat filled the air, a series of staccato thuds that set Anneka’s heart racing. She felt it in her chest, in her mind, caressing her skin, filling her from head to toe, making her body twitch as she swayed to the primal pulse.
This will be my final journal entry. Earlier today, I powered down the facility’s generator. The battery back-up will last an hour, maybe two. After that, the computers will go offline. Oxygen will cease to be recycled shortly after. Last to go will be the lights, but I intend to be gone before then. I may very well be the last human on the entire planet, and the thought is… sobering.
Fox came upon a family of crows circling an old oak tree. Head cocked, he barked up to them, “Crows, why are you circling around up there?”
Please forgive me. Last night, as my soldiers lay exhausted and bleeding in an impromptu reprieve from battle, I realised it has been almost a month since my last letter to you.
The group of histourists moved closer together as Clancy Deville led them along a familiar path through the ruins. As he walked, he pointed out features he knew would impress, and waited patiently as they snapped shots with their ocular visors.
“But I’m tired of the doll house. I want to play on the rocking horse.”
Alexander’s complaint reached Maria as she crossed the midpoint of the stairs. The creak of the ancient wooden staircase beneath her feet drowned out his next words, and it wasn’t until she approach his bedroom door that she heard him speak again.
Emporium was quiet for a Saturday night, but then, it tended to attract a lot of Espers. Dunno why. Maybe they like the music. Maybe they like that the bar staff don’t ask How’s your day been? as soon as you pull up a stool. Maybe they just like the soft-light ambiance. Emporium wasn’t really my scene, but I didn’t feel as uncomfortable there as most simple, honest folk do.
One micey. Two micey. Three micey. Four—
He stopped, stock still, on the gleaming barbed wire fence. The fourth spike was empty. Where was four micey?
“Tell us a story, Grandpa!” Talia begged. Her cry was picked up by the other children in the flock, a chorus of voices demanding entertainment.