IT CAME

IT CAME.

"The stars look cool." He yelled as he excitedly pulled her to the back porch, surprisingly strong for someone so small. She gasped when she saw the sky, fear taking hold.

"Those aren't stars Sam."

"Then what are they?" He turned to face her.

She sure looked beautiful.

"They're meteors!" She yelled.

What?

"Run!"

*****

That was a month ago.

The world was not the same after that night. The Earth never recovered and for whatever reason, the stars never did too—almost as if they knew that nothing would ever be worth shining on again, that nothing would ever be beautiful again.

But she'd been...

He felt the familiar prickle of tears. He promised himself that he would never cry, never again.

He sat up on his makeshift bed, his riffle laid undisturbed underneath his pillow, and with it, her picture.

Not many people had escaped, heck, he barely had. She hadn't-

Like the star, suddenly she was gone. Her regalia never to be beheld again. It hurt. He hated how much it hurt.

December 21st, 2021. 

They called it The Night of Tears. It was the night he'd lost everything and the night the heavens had wept.

He stood up and stretched. It was another day. He walked over to the old transistor radio. Funny how everyone reverts to the 'stone age' when a power beyond human comprehension, forces them back in time.

He turned the knob, till he got the right frequency. 

"There is hope. I repeat there is hope. If anyone can hear me, there is a safe place, a fortified city with water and electricity. There is food. To anyone out there that may still be alive, there is hope. If we come together and work as one, the world might just live again...."

It went on in repeat. He'd listened to it every day. It was what kept him going. 

It was his third day without food and he couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a decent bath.

The city-sized meteors hadn't spared anyone, not even the animals. A third of the earth wasted away in flames. Half of the rest died of hunger and the rest hid away in bunkers, seeming to have known the end of the world was coming.

He was almost there, he could feel it, any day now, he would get to the fortified city.

He packed his gear and whistled to his pet dog. It was Amy's—the only thing he had left of her. The brown bundle of fur jumped up and down as he wagged his tail. He smiled.

"Let's go, Bill. We have a long day ahead of us." He took the rifle underneath his pillow and counted the bullets—two.

It would have to do. He didn't want to think of the day he'd have to use it. He raised his head hearing tires screeching, people hooting. 

Maybe, just maybe today would be that day.

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This is one of my many flash fictions, based on literary prompts (sentences or dialogues given to a writer to write a complete literary piece.)

I wrote the fiction off of the first few given sentences.

Do you like it? 🤗❤