Prompt: Write a story or scene set during an apocalypse. What does the world as we know it look like when it faces certain doom? What unlikely heroes step in to save it? What obstacles do they have to overcome?
Story:
I sniffed, trying not to let my tears fall. It's been done, and it's all my fault.
"I uh. This is my last bottle of scotch." I lightly chuckle and showed the camera the empty bottle, trying to make light of the situation that we're all in. This is bad and I only blame myself.
"I'm Chris, and I-" I started breaking down and cried. I pressed stop and delete on the remote then I stood up from my couch and put away the bottle. I screamed into my little light house bunker that was supposed to protect me from judgment day and it will, I don't doubt her calculations, but I could never live with the guilt.
How could she do such a thing? Why did I let her? I, I don't know what happened, I just lost it. And now, everyone is doomed all because of me. Only me.
I frantically run around the living room and the kitchen for a few seconds, until I remembered something. I almost forgot I had a gun in one of my kitchen drawers. My heartbeat raced, my blood boiled, my frustration sky rocketed as I slowly walk to that very drawer.
What am I thinking? I couldn't stop her, but maybe. Maybe I could stop myself, I don't deserve to live because it's all my fault. I should die with the rest of everyone.
I took the gun, my hands shaking as I looked at the clip. It's full. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and went back to my couch. I placed the gun underneath a pillow next to me and just stared at the camera. This madness has to stop somehow, but, how? I don't know how.
I tried pulling out my hair and screamed through the pain. I was exhausted, tired and sleepless. I turned on the camera with my remote and started recording myself again.
"I tried to stop her." I slowly put down the remote at the couch's arm rest.
I look into the camera, my eyes almost about to burst. "But I lost control."
"She got the launch codes." I don't know how, but she found them, and now the world will end. I was angry at myself for that.
"It was her, she did it." I couldn't stop her, I tried.
"But it was my fault." I'm angry at myself because I let her, now the guilt will eat me alive unless... I grabbed the gun that I hid.
I started crying again. "I'm sorry." I'm apologizing for what's about to happen.
"I'm so, so sorry."
Gunshot
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Prompted Shorties
Narrativa generaleThese are stories that I make with a pre-made prompt for me. I try to limit it to 500 words or less but most of the time I get carried away. I hope you enjoy and I'll try to keep adding new ones whenever I get the chance to revisit the site.
