I’d been driving for hours. My brain and body aching for sleep. Searching, searching, for anyone. For any human life. But I am surrounded only by dirt and trees on these broken roads.
The rusty door of my pickup truck creaks as I push it open to stand on the dry soil at the end of this dusty vacant trail.
“Is there anyone out here?” I yell into my own echo. My hope of finding a single soul dwindling with my gritty voice as the days pass.
The virus is gone, but so are the people. Gone, but never forgotten.
I realize I’m very late to this party, but I do hope you all had a very Merry Christmas if you celebrate. If you don’t, I hope you enjoyed the peace and joy of the season. And I wish you the very best in the upcoming year. I am certain we can’t wait for this year to be gone, and I’m sure it will never be forgotten.
Friday Fictioneers is a place for flash fiction brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Visit Rochelle’s site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.