There is a singular house that has not yet been burnt. All of the others are mere husks of the standing glories that they once were. Inside the house lives a lonely old woman. She relies on the ways of the ancient Mayan people to help her farm, slash and burn. (After burning wood, they wood sprinkle the ashes into the ground to provide nutrients for the soil.)
The woman's name is Mary. Typhoid Mary.
As the only one left in her town, Mary walk these empty streets. She would stare at the fountain in the center of town, remembering the kids running around. She walks to the store, still seeing the ghost of her mother at the cash register.
The government had killed everything else. Anything she held dear, they burned. She was left in this desolate and isolated town. A tracker implanted in her right wrist prevented her from ever leaving. They know where she is at all times.
She never meant to hurt anyone. She was just a cooke. Sure, her hygine was questionable, but water was so exspensive! She simply couldn't afford it. Mary had infected people with her peach ice cream. Her pride and joy, her peach ice cream. She had mixed it wither her own two hands, that's how it was so smooth!
yes, typhoid mary was a real chef. no, they never burned her town down. if you want to know more about her, go to
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Mallon
k bye
YOU ARE READING
Inspiration
Randomjust me being inspired enough to write a little, but not enough for a story. most of these aren't a lot of words. these aren't stories! i'll just hate myself if i don't write them, even a little bit.
