“We’re prob’ly two days away the way we’re goin’” Hank said next to me through a mouthful of cold lima beans.
“Then we see what the blazes that thing’s made of.”
It was our usual dance. We’ve had this conversation over and over since Hank and I crossed paths running for our lives a month ago. I think it was a month but it could have been longer…or less. Ever since the sun went dark and food stopped growing, everything went downhill fast. Nothing grows. Once all the livestock was gone, everybody turned to the last easy source of protein around…each other. Now it’s just a damned mess.
One day this light just appeared but it wasn’t coming down like sunlight, it was going up. Scientists might be working on it but unless I cross paths with one to ask, I’ll never know. Hank thinks it’s Hell. I’m not sure I care anymore.
“Let’s get movin’. Maybe we’ll stumble onto another fruit cellar” Hank mumbled.
“Sounds better than being stumbled onto!” I replied.
For the first time in a long time, I heard a whirring noise in the black sky above.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly Flash Fiction prompt based on the photo supplied below. If you wish to take part, the idea is to write a piece of fiction of around 100-200 words (usually called flash fiction).
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