Short Stories

Descriptive Writing - Apocalypse

It is a certain kind of uneasiness that can pull the unsuspecting stranger from their ignorance. Though the street was very much alive, in more ways than one was it already dead. Everyone that walked upon it moved with no urgency, their slow steps dragging their weightless bodies through the world. Along with them came a deathly silence and a desire to escape from its grasp.

The ground below their feet was still wet from the night's downpour and despite it being midday it remained boggy and gruesome. The loose, weathered, gravel under their feet gave sensations similar to nails on a chalkboard. Typical bad weather. Always typical bad weather.

Against the backdrop of greyed autumn skies the dying leaves looked like ash as the wind carried them, smothering the street with the endless corpses of mother nature. The sight was dreadful and weighed on your chest like being trapped with no air. The apocalypse was coming in slowed intervals, small insignificant things that were perceived to be normal were haunting omens in plain sight. Not even the cawing of the raven could forwarn us of the danger ahead.

The rain had marked them with its stain  and the wind slammed against their homes, their bunkers, reminding them it was out there. The howl of air went ignored when it calmed, but when it awoke to create chaos humanity could not ignore it. Another omen of their doomed world.

How had humanity missed these obvious signs?

Years in the future the mismatching concrete pavement would be torn and obliterated, the roads leading to nowhere but the hellish burning centre of the world. 

The sky would be blue, refreshing, bright, but cold and suffocating. The slightest shower of rain would corrode skin and drown any living organism. The wind would roar and sweep bodies from their graves, their brick houses that they innocently believed would hold under its torment.

The world descended into mayhem as humanity perished at their own ignorance.