George remembers the day it all changed. It was spring time. Chilly, but the sun was glorious. Camilla, his wife, stirred homemade soup on the gas range while the kids bustled around the backyard, clad in jeans and wool sweaters. Mowgli, their dog followed close behind.
He was at work when the sirens went off. While wrapped in a protective suit, bombs detonated and the firestorm decimated every living soul.
George’s family is dead, but he keeps searching for survivors. He’ll keep looking in every empty car, abandoned home, and town.
He can’t be the only one left. He can’t.
100 Words/Genre: Apocalyptic Fiction
Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Please be sure to go to her page and read the stories from other writers. We are a rather eclectic group. I welcome kudos and criticism. Bring it on!