The Sun Rose at Midnight



The sun rose at midnight.  The city was gone.  Another city and another sun, around the world it repeated.  Who started it?  Does it matter?

A house in the desert that once was a suburb.  Charred remains, ghosts of lives long gone.  Ruins under the slate grey sky that rains death.

We seek shelter.  Perhaps we’ll soon be gone, too.  The before times were before my time, not even a memory.  Just the stories.

My son found them, hidden treasures.  Nothing in the building, but sheltered from the firestorm, they survived.  Memories of childhood before the sun rose at midnight.

Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Karuna.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky.

Because of a few things going on (like no Internet connection last week) I’ve had a hard time keeping up.  This week will be no different – I will be out of town and off line pretty much for the next 5 days.  I’ll try to participate a little more in next weeks FF.


21 thoughts on “The Sun Rose at Midnight

    1. trentpmcd Post author

      Lost innocence. I think that’s been a common theme with the charred toys. I wasn’t thinking too much about symbolism, but it does work.


    1. trentpmcd Post author

      There is hope that humanity is not totally gone, but there is still plenty of radioactivity that might be damaging them all… Only time will tell.


    1. trentpmcd Post author

      Thanks! There is something about those old charred toys, isn’t there? And it’s worse that they are dolls and teddy bears and such. I don’t think a model car or deflated basketball would have the same effect.

      I actually wrote a poem based on the first line, but deleted it and wrote it out as a story instead. I guess the origins show through.



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