Today on Drabble Wednesday we visit the abandoned and the desolate, the lost places…
War came without warning.
At least for people like me, the ordinary, the underprivileged. Perhaps the ruling class knew, perhaps they ignored it, or were responsible. I’ll never know and now, as I flee, it doesn’t matter.
The only thing that matters is getting out alive.
I keep my focus, shoving through the panicked crowds, hugging the hastily packed bundle of my possessions, and pushing onward, past the city gates.
I look back over my shoulder as I continue to run. One last look at the home I have forsaken. Above my city they are circling, the invaders.
The steel and glass towers ascended from the ice, their spiral turrets reaching towards the grey clouds in the darkening sky. They stood as abandoned sentinels, haunted beacons luring weary travellers and seekers of arcane knowledge.
Travellers such as the one arriving this night.
She was young, and ambitious. She craved powerful magic, willing to risk great danger to achieve her goals. It was the reason she had sought out the Towers, for a ancient whisper, a promise of magic.
As she approached, the doors opened, beckoning her.
She smiled never realising the trap, the curse.
She died still smiling.
Rows of buildings lined his route, fencing the road with tiers of decaying apartments and walkways that rose into hazy firmament. He skirted his way around debris as he walked, his footsteps and his breathing—a harsh noise through the mask of his air filter—shattering the morning silence.
He entered a building to scavenge, his gloved hand pushing the damaged door aside. Passing though an empty lobby, he climbed a stairway and eventually passed into a dim hall. He took a few steps, The air resounded with a crunching sound, as he walked over the bones of the dead.