When I think about the old world, only in distant memories and muted daydreams, I mostly think about color. The urban world was dashed in eye-catching colors and neon lights. Nature was slightly more subdued; somewhat monochromatic, yet varied in understated tones of grey, brown, and green. Color is hard to come by, now, with the exception of flame and blood. Rampant fires and firestorms consumed forests and cities long ago, and everyday continue to demolish what was once taken for granted.
From the fall of ashes and soot, the world is grey, and waterways are black. Remnants of hydrangeas, wild orchids, and daisies stand brittle in what were once great forests, sculpted by fire into ashen effigies of what they once were, waiting earnestly …show more content…
When I look into them, I see the purity that the rest of mankind lost long ago. Few survived the day the sky opened up, and even fewer were able to endure the barbaric wars that followed. Many took to cannibalism as a final resort, starving and desperate.
My son and I tread constantly south, with hopes of someday finding a warm place. I’m unsure of the season, the month, the year. Perhaps it is winter, or maybe the air is just so thick with sediment that it hinders us from the sun’s warmth.
He has no knowledge of the world that was. I had once tried to teach him of the world before its end, but I could not bring myself to ignite remembrances in the heart of a child that were already ashes in my own.
I’m unsure of why we were chosen to remain amongst the last living creatures on earth, nor do I know what will happen when I am no longer around to guide and protect the boy. All I know is that he is my only justification, and he is divinity, and he is …show more content…
“Oh. Yeah, we’re pretty skinny.”
“We are.”
He pauses.
“But we’d never eat nobody, would we?”
“No, definitely not.”
“Because we carry the fire, right?
“Yes, because we carry the fire.”
And on we went, marching towards our unspecified destination, our socks molded to our feet, until it is finally time to rest. We perch our small utility tent near a decrepit, wood-rotten shed, hiding our knapsacks within a neighboring pile of small, crozzled logs. I teach him for the thousandth time how to make fire before allowing us to drift into the sleep we so desperately needed, my hand resting warmly on his chest as it rises and falls.
I sleep little and I sleep poorly, dreaming of a generic flowery wood, horses nearby, his mother in a sundress, a Sunday-morning feel, when he shouts, waking me from my siren world:
“Dad! Dad! Someone took all our stuff!”
I jerk at that, my retinas burning fiercely as they are exposed to the sunlight. I survey our makeshift campsite, panicked and maddened to see the log pile had been disturbed.
“Someone took all our—“
“I know someone took all our stuff! Get up!”
I grab him by the arm and jerk him to his feet harshly, practically dragging him as I pursue the tracks on the dead
From the fall of ashes and soot, the world is grey, and waterways are black. Remnants of hydrangeas, wild orchids, and daisies stand brittle in what were once great forests, sculpted by fire into ashen effigies of what they once were, waiting earnestly …show more content…
When I look into them, I see the purity that the rest of mankind lost long ago. Few survived the day the sky opened up, and even fewer were able to endure the barbaric wars that followed. Many took to cannibalism as a final resort, starving and desperate.
My son and I tread constantly south, with hopes of someday finding a warm place. I’m unsure of the season, the month, the year. Perhaps it is winter, or maybe the air is just so thick with sediment that it hinders us from the sun’s warmth.
He has no knowledge of the world that was. I had once tried to teach him of the world before its end, but I could not bring myself to ignite remembrances in the heart of a child that were already ashes in my own.
I’m unsure of why we were chosen to remain amongst the last living creatures on earth, nor do I know what will happen when I am no longer around to guide and protect the boy. All I know is that he is my only justification, and he is divinity, and he is …show more content…
“Oh. Yeah, we’re pretty skinny.”
“We are.”
He pauses.
“But we’d never eat nobody, would we?”
“No, definitely not.”
“Because we carry the fire, right?
“Yes, because we carry the fire.”
And on we went, marching towards our unspecified destination, our socks molded to our feet, until it is finally time to rest. We perch our small utility tent near a decrepit, wood-rotten shed, hiding our knapsacks within a neighboring pile of small, crozzled logs. I teach him for the thousandth time how to make fire before allowing us to drift into the sleep we so desperately needed, my hand resting warmly on his chest as it rises and falls.
I sleep little and I sleep poorly, dreaming of a generic flowery wood, horses nearby, his mother in a sundress, a Sunday-morning feel, when he shouts, waking me from my siren world:
“Dad! Dad! Someone took all our stuff!”
I jerk at that, my retinas burning fiercely as they are exposed to the sunlight. I survey our makeshift campsite, panicked and maddened to see the log pile had been disturbed.
“Someone took all our—“
“I know someone took all our stuff! Get up!”
I grab him by the arm and jerk him to his feet harshly, practically dragging him as I pursue the tracks on the dead