Amid the rubble of the doomed world, strange visitors descend. They shepherd a cluster of survivors, eking out scant resources and quelling fear with soporific remedies. Meagre nourishment suffices: human bodies waste, but precious minds are preserved. The anaesthetised congregation slumber through the end days, harbouring their legacy of dreams.
Tomorrow, ships will transport them to a distant outpost to start again. They will awaken in captivity, blinded by an alien sun, bound by the offer of redemption.
Today, history flows through their collective veins like a dormant signature. Tributaries of the past, dreaming of a future ocean.
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GREEN STORIES: ‘Fruits of Labour’ by Holly Schofield
This piece is part of our Green Stories series, showcasing the winners of Green Stories ' first flash fiction competition in which wri...
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I knew a man who owned 150 items. One hundred of them were books. He was extremely specific about this number. Two plates, two bowls, one po...
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She sat on her sofa and listened patiently right up to the point when her Dad asked her to come home. She ended the call. To go home would b...
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