The Afterdom

The world is dark. The light has fully evaporated and the cold solitude has taken hold. It should still be the middle of summer - if I recall correctly. But who knows. The days are growing longer by the minute. The stars have literally fallen out of the sky. Fortunately, only one hit the earth, but that was enough to change my life forever.

I used to roll my eyes when I sat in church and heard the preacher yelling about hail, fire, and brimstone. I guess he was right. The end is real. Where there once were fields of potent wild flowers, there are only dirt clods covered with mounds of mold spores. When it rains, a toxic slimy gelatinous goo oozes steadily from the ground. The run off has contaminated all the oceans, lakes, streams, aqueducts. Every fluid ounce of water is worthless. Even the occasional low lying cloud that floats upon the arid winds seems to be off. Sometimes I think they are trying to tell me something. A tragic scandalous secret maybe. But the low lying clouds can not be trusted. The word lying is in their names for pete's sake. The clouds do seem to be laced with a faint hint of silver. Possibly mercury has poisoned them. The few trees that still stand have been reduced to naked bones. The skeleton trees were magnificent at one time, but they no longer tower to the sky. The termites and carpenter ants cut them down to size. That is - before the toxic fumes of the Afterdom sealed their fates too.

We are the remaining three.

My name is Thomas, but all my friends call me Tommy. Both of my friends call me Tommy. Well, maybe only one is technically my friend. The other is my sister, Patty. She hates that I still call her that. When she was little, maybe four or five, she was obsessed with playing patty cake. The nickname was fitting and unfortunately for her, it stuck like super-glue. She's only two years younger than me, but she acts like she's my mom. Always bossing me around. Asking all kinds of embarrassing questions at the worst times. I know she means well, but boy - she can be a nag.

Oh! And there's Rave... the thirteen year old man-child who started shaving when he was only eleven. I guess you could call him my best friend. He is almost six foot three and thinks he's God's gift to women. They're not so convinced. How would I know? Well, Patty is the only women left alive, and she has made it perfectly clear to me that she wants nothing to do with him.

The Afterdom is a ridiculous name, but that's what we started calling the end of the world as we knew it. I would have to say that the Hunger Games and all the other survival type titles had more to do with it than the three of us would like to admit. But none the less - We managed to out run... everyone. We haven't met a single soul for the past thirty three days, five hours, and seventeen... eighteen... nineteen... minutes. You can't imagine the mental anguish of knowing - without a doubt - that everyone you have ever loved is gone. Just like that. And for what?

I don't know how many times I have yelled at the darkness, demanding to know why this happened.

What do you think? Should I continue writing this story? Please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts.

©2014 Marshal Hunter. All Rights Reserved.