Monday, January 25, 2010

Life Was Simpler But Love Is Stronger



Rob scanned the horizon, desolate for as far as his eyes could see. Only the occasional wisp of smoke lazily spiraling skyward in the far distant could be seen. No movement of life. No birds singing or rustling of leaves or trees. Nothing but total devastation from east to west, north to south.
It hadn’t always been like this. His previous life had never prepared him for what he was experiencing now. He had been mildly successful. Married shortly after college he pursued his career with the same amount of energy and reckless abandon that most twenty-somethings do. Still young enough to believe they can change the world, not old enough yet to be disappointed by the cyclic burdens of daily pursuits. But still, he had tried to live the ideal life. Living within their means, he and his wife had bought a nice home, started a family with the birth of their two children and lived the dream. When he left for the business meeting half way across the nation, he had no idea it would be the last time he would talk to his wife, kiss his children or see his accomplishments of a middle class life.
Unbeknownst to him, powers larger and darker than he had ever imagined had invented a future. A future in which mankind itself had become the victim. He was one of the lucky ones. He was able to escape the rain of fire from above. He was able to escape the nuclear terror which had devastated the landscape and left the human race to teeter on the brink of annihilation. Information was non-existent. Rumors and myths were the words of the day. But rumor had it that there were survivors and that they were gathering. It was these rumors which drove him in his quest. He found it his sole thought to find his wife and children. This belief that they were survivors and were gathering with others was all he needed to continue.
Shaking his head, Rob returned to the present. Climbing out of his ride, he took measure of the situation. The world was now a dangerous place, where only the crafty and the hard could survive. Displayed before him were the wrecked remains of the opponent who would have seen him dead, for nothing more than the fuel and little food that his heavily modified car carried. But today was different. Today it would be Rob who would be taking the remnant fuel worth more than all the precious metal left on this god forsaken planet. Removing his newly acquired Desert Eagle from its holster, Rob strode to the driver side of the wreckage and surveyed the broken body of his adversary who lay moaning from mortal wounds. Driven by the animalistic desire to return to who he knew, his family and any shred of his former life, he raised his gun and squeezed the trigger. And to think three months ago he would have thought twice about swatting a fly.


Written for 3WW. The three words used are in bold.

2 comments:

Larry said...

Wow how could a great story like this one go with out a comment I can't believe I'm the only person who has left a commentt asking for more this was a great read Bravo to you please write more and keep in touch I'll bookmark you because I'm always looking for a great read like this one.


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Thanks for stopping by and leaving your comment.
Larry

ThomG said...

This was chilling, but told with great care and compassion for the past. Nicely done.