Friday, 28 February 2014

Flash Fiction: Immune

It must be November by now, maybe December. I should be thankful. And I am.

I'm thankful for the silence.

I'm thankful for the peace.

I'm thankful for the space.

Yes, even after all that has happened, I'm thankful.

For the silence, the silence after the screaming — of the panic, of the dying, of the fleeing, of the caught.

For the peace, the peace after the madness, after the riots, after the street warfare, after the virus that caused it all and, ultimately, ended it all.

For the space, the space to think and breathe now that everyone has gone.


"Immune" was first published in The Were-Traveler's drabble issue. More background here.

3 comments:

Sulci Collective said...

Bleak but the punchy rhythms fair spirited this along as you read. As an only child I recognise the ache for solitariness well

David Gullen said...

Nice. Very effective, I like the beat in the writing, the rhythm.

Steve Green said...

Like it.

Short, powerful, apocalyptic.

Yes, I like it very much.