#delapidation

It was on the eve of the anniversary and Brent was late.

“Is he coming?” the man asked. He was ragged, his clothing barely hanging onto his frail frame. His thick grey beard gave him a wild appearance. His eyes were deranged and burning into mine.

“He should be.” That was all I could say in response. At this point, I wasn’t sure about anything. The world had gone to hell so many years ago. We were all just struggling to make it any way that we could. I leaned against the decrepit brick wall with my hands in my pockets to help me keep warm. My parka was not nearly as thick as it could be against the strengthening autumn wind. My left hand also kept a grip on the small .22 caliber pistol in my left coat pocket just in case the old man got tired of waiting and attempted something dangerous. Atomic junkies were known to have bipolar episodes periodically...

Read the rest HERE!

So much for lightening the mood up.

Explanation of the flash fiction challenge is HERE