Deep at night, Peter was lying on the cold hard concrete floor, sleeping. Soft rays of moonlight flow through the cracks, as frogs croaked and crickets can be heard.
He dreamt of his parents, in front of him. His eyes teared up as he ran towards them.
"Mama?Papa?"
His eyes popped open to the sound of explosions. He thought it was from far away, until he saw flashes of orange and red through the cracks. They were coming for him.
Flashes of the moment of the tragedy reappeared before his eyes. His mother's emotionless face covered with blood, resting on pieces of concrete.
The bombings became louder and louder.
The broken TV screen flashed before his eyes.
Crumbles of dust and rock started rolling down.
He saw the horrified face of the reporter again, fresh.
The plates of concrete started giving way, collapsing. Gasping to breath, he tried using his hands, but to no avail.
Running out of air, he started blacking out.
Do not go gentle into that good night...
YOU ARE READING
Boy in Rubble: a "An Old Man's Lunch" Story
AventuraFollow Peter in his quest to survive a cruel world. Origin story of my another story "An Old Man's Lunch"
