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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
What is left, when all is lost?

Submitted: November 24, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 24, 2011




The silence told me all was over. I looked around, for nothing in particular. I was alone.

I'd always loved to be alone, but this was a different sort of alone. 

"Is anyone out there?" I yelled. No one and nothing.

I studied the dead bodies all around me. The ground was dirt and blood; the wind picked up a good amount of the dreadful mixture and threw it into my face. We had lost this final battle and there was nothing left for us but death. Nothing left for me but death.

I continued to walk, searching for what I knew did not exist. I paraded through the empty road of a freshly destroyed village. All dead bodies and dilapidated buildings. All I could smell was death and must.

I pushed into an empty inn and climbed to the highest room. There was a bed with three frightened young girls, my age, maybe. 

"You're not well-hidden," I said. "They didn't find you?"

The three girls each smiled maliciously. "We are them."

They stood and approached me. I swallowed my fear and lunged at the mirror. It shattered; I reached for its deathly sharp shards and cut myself apart.


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