Penny, the new kid on the block, stood in front of an old, rickety house along with two new-found friends.
She swallowed hard as she stepped up to the front door.
“Don’t be a scaredy cat and go in!” Darla called out.
Inside the dank-smelling entryway, cobwebs littered every nook and cranny. Dark and not a living soul present as the young girl walked down a hallway.
A movement on her right caused Penny to pause.
On the long, narrow table sat a huge glass platter with a steel cover.
The cover rattled ever so slightly.
Gray clouds hung low in the colorless sky as he watched a group of teenagers clambered down the street littered with rusted and mangled vehicular bodies. Houses on both sides of the disintegrating asphalt stood in various wretched shapes. Woods warped. Windows smashed or missing. Vinyl sidings bent like painful hang-nails.
Like Rome, another giant had fallen.
Rob gripped the steering wheel as he watched a brown leaf roll across the gray hood. His haggard face covered with salt and pepper beard helped conceal the white scar across his right cheek. He stared ahead as he half-listened to the car radio.
“The President is expected to address the nation tonight for the final time.” The radio garbled. “Before leaving with his family to an undisclosed location.”
He leaned over and changed the stations.
Say the only dream you ever had was blue, a cool brilliance that engulfs everything in the universe.
All you know of your place in the monochromatic Everything is webbed feet, jewel fingers and a certain unnamable longing. You reach upward and out, straining to grasp the hazy glow of a distant light in your palms.
“If this boat hits one more swell, I swear I’ll hurl that slop they called breakfast back up on the deck.”
Venus–AKA Captain Eyepatch’s gravelly complaint dragged Terra back to the here and now.