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
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.