An acrid chemical haze blanketed the city wastelands. The noon sky glowed with an eerie crepuscular light. The Cataclysm proffered two choices: adapt or die.
In the fields we no longer chased butterflies. They now chased us, their flapping avian wings dusting us with fine powder that necrotised human flesh.
Melanie always feared her childhood obsession with catching butterflies would, one day, come back to haunt her.
An amazing story. it haunted me.
Thank you for the compliment.Glad you liked it.
I’m sorry about the typographical error.
Not a problem ☺.Thank you,again.
Pungent! Poignant! Insightful! An excellent story, Mel.
Thank you for the lovely comment,Megan 😃
What a turn of the table in the latter portion! This is a phenomenal piece.
Thank the Lord for thesaurusies…
Big words make stories silly