Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Post-Apocalyptic Writing By Toby

Barren wastland lay flat around me as I stumble along the concrete path. I take a breath, radioactive mist fills my lungs.
Looking up, I realise green clouds have bruised the atmosphere so badly that there is no more sunlight anymore, the only light eminates from the toxic clouds above me.
I look for any sign of life, but the sand and tumbleweeds reveal that I am alone. I just hope that someone, something, is out there.
A strong wind stabs me in the back, and then something else does, but this time it isn't the wind.

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