Mike turned the doll over in his hand, her ruffled collar whispering against his Biohazard containment suit. He rubbed her face roughly on his plastic sleeve, but the smudge of dirt on her nose remained. The doll’s eyes had called to him from beneath the dead car in the old parking structure. The human child she’d accompanied had been vaporized by the blast last week; only this porcelain survivor left to tell of its hatred.
He lifted his gaze to the sun outside, still shining as these raids continued to take place. The Western Totalitarian State and the Asian Island Fascists had signed a treaty with the Global Socialist United, hoping to stop the bombings. He shook his head. That only meant that the Capitalist Union was hit twice as often.
The world of 1970 was one of fear and shaky alliance. He sighed as he roughly jammed the porcelain body into a thick plastic bag, then vacuum sealed it. His government’s broadcast buzzed over his radio, cheerful. These people shouldn’t have died.
Damn the governments.
Comments
Average Reader Rating:
Survivor [Picture Challenge]
Posted 8 months ago
Survivor [Picture Challenge]
Posted 8 months ago
Survivor [Picture Challenge]
Posted 8 months ago
Survivor [Picture Challenge]
Posted 8 months ago
Survivor [Picture Challenge]
Posted 8 months ago
Survivor [Picture Challenge]
Posted 8 months ago
Want to comment on this ficlet? You need to sign in!