The End: Exeunt

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A super short mutant apocalypse story. Two teenagers trek their way across the ruins of South America, searching for sustainable life.

Submitted: September 29, 2011

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Submitted: September 29, 2011



For over one hundred years, the continent of South America has been falling. A huge exodus took place in order for the people to flee from the dangers thriving in the destructing continent. The floods of acidic rain, earthquakes and nuclear energy that had been seeping into the land killed many people, as they hadn't been able to breathe or do anything. In a panic to emigrate from Brazil, a boy and a girl had been forgotten.

“Marcela, I know for a fact Mexico is over this river!” Ramon insisted.

“I can't believe you are doubting my navigational skills. I actually came here from Mexico!” Marcela was getting frustrated.

“Well maybe you should have stayed there. You wouldn't have to deal with this.”

Marcela didn't say anything. All around, it was quiet – deathly quiet. At times like this Marcela wished to hear the flutter of butterflies or the rustle of leaves. Unfortunately, all that was gone – the land would be completely barren if it weren't for the few trees dotted along the path the two were traveling.

“Ramon. Ramon. Ra—”


“What is that?”

Staring at them was a rodent-like creature with abnormally large teeth, gray fur, and hundreds of eyes. With a second look, the gray fur was actually scales.

Ramon chuckled. “You're an ugly little thing aren't you?” The fish-rat's eyes became smaller in fury and understanding. It leaped and hung onto Ramon's gaunt face.

“Agh, ahh, gef if off meh!”

Marcela pulled a dull pocket knife from the underside of her belt. She took her time to shine it and only a second to slice the creature's neck. THUMP. The fish-rat hit the ground with a strange embracing manner.

“What the hell!? It only takes you so long to get your knife out and for my face to get clawed apart!” Ramon touched his cuts. Under his eyes and forehead were minor incisions; they weren't bleeding.

Marcela sighed. “Come on, child, I think I see a hut over there.”

That hut was waiting to collapse, the wood eaten by some caustic liquid, perhaps, until the hut looked like the inside of a shark's mouth.

They made their way inside the lifeless house, welcomed by a passing woman.

“Excuse me, Miss, what are you still doing in Brazil?” Ramon asked her silently.

“We're all going to die anyway.”


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