This week’s flash fiction is pretty grim. Well, it’s art reflecting life, isn’t it?
The grey trucks used to transport dead bodies quickly became ubiquitous as the sickness spread. The living formed a morbid honour guard safe behind their windows each morning to watch the trucks roll past.
As supplies started to run out, it became more important not to miss the parade to check out whose windows were empty and make sure your own didn’t. Any house that looked empty could count on being broken into as people searched for dwindling supplies.
Despite the sickness, and the protests that followed, the government had managed to keep the power on. The news told me that there were still plenty of crops in the countryside if we could hold out until the harvest.
My dog had run away from the siren on the first day of the new curfew and hadn’t returned yet. If things got really bad, and she didn’t come back, I’d be able to survive a little longer on the tinned dog food, though I told myself it wouldn’t come to that.
Two men had set up on the next street corner with an open fire in a metal drum, offering chunks of meat in exchange for a ring, or a video recorder, or whatever else they could spare.
In the evenings the street was grimy with the stink of burnt flesh. The news told me the world was watching, and would send help as soon as they could.
Gangs had divided up the streets into territories. Not that there was anything left to plunder. The news still insisted help was on the way. It helped to pass the time until the grey trucks full of dead bodies rolled past again.
My mouth drooled at the smell of meat when I opened the tin of dog food. My stomach had twisted into a knot when the jellyish chunk had slithered into it, but it was because it was the first solid food I had eaten in a long time.
If only I had more I could hold out until help finally arrived. The only other option was the meat that the men roasted on the fire below me, and there was only one source of meat readily available here.
Once my boots were gone, I joined the parade of grey people following the trucks, calling for them to stop.
I’ve been let off my chain, so will be returning next week with a special “field notes” edition. Find out where I’ve been, next week!
Ist furchtbar-wo immer es auch ist und warum-Hunger und Elend erleben zu müssen.
Sehr spannend,nachdenklich ,gefülserregend ,versteckt Realitäten darstellend in Worte gefasst.
Und wir haben früher als Kinder oft mit unserem Hund die Nahrung geteilt-insbesondere Hundekuchen.
Nur heute verfügen zahlreiche Menschen nicht einmal diese Möglichkeit-ob mit oder ohne den geliebten “Beschützer”.
Und am Ende bleibt der graue Lastwagen!
Wo befindet sich die Kette?
Keine Ahnung-bin gespannt über die “Befreiung”!
Deine wöchentliche Ausgabe verspätete sich-vielleicht wegen der Kettenfesselung?