Forsaken (microfiction)

You bring me these dead flowers, and I ask, why? Why do you come to this place, knowing the danger? Why do the stray dogs of the forest night terrorize us and not let us sleep, with their howling at the moon like wolves every night, feeding on the corpses of rabbits?

And yet, you seem so naïve. Did you not know that this world is forsaken now? When they dropped the bomb long ago, they killed beauty. Whatever innocence we had left died that day, and ever since, we wallow in our filth and spend each minute like it’s our last.

And who can blame us? Answer me. We are victims, yes, I know. But no one is coming to save us now. That time for hoping is long past. We are alone here in this part of the world and, probably, in a Godless universe. What good God would oversee the slaughter of millions, if not billions?

It is more likely the Evil One reigns now. So, don’t give me these dead flowers. Take them back, bury them in the ground, and leave this place. We have to look out for ourselves. The nights are cold, and the days are brutal. And I have no patience for false hope. I recommend you give up this illusion and do it now before it’s too late. Sure enough, you’ll learn it the hard way.

The End

Check out my science fiction novella, Mother Portia, on Amazon Kindle

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