The booming walls of the industry trapped me of freedom, the freedom I so desperately grasped for from this nightmare. The gurgling sounds of death following me closely everywhere I went. Left. Right. Every turn brought only more turns and corridors. The low growls drew closer and closer. Growls of hunger, disease, and death. I make a turn, my senses flaring. The soft sound of wind is near. I make the final few turns to my new escaped freedom, bursting through the iron cloak.
My freedom was short lived, but instead my imprisonment further extended. A balcony over looking the wasteland way below, the cities destroyed by disease. My focus elsewhere allowed death to grasp me tight, ripping my throat out piece by piece. My screams of agony morphed into lifeless gurgles. The hazed, glossy eyes of my predator were emotionless as he feasted on my flesh, my blood seeping out onto the balcony, and his rotting hands.
My final sight of my lifeless murderer would forever be my nightmare. My final thought to be with my loved ones I cared for and protected to my full ability would forever be my perfect dream. Life left my body, and everything went dark. That is how I died.
YOU ARE READING
Flash Fiction: You Should Be Reading
Historia CortaFlash fiction stories that can making you sad, happy, inspirational, frightened, and much more. Most of it is mine while a few others are not. Please enjoy!
