Dancing on Knifepoint [WWIII Challenge]

I sat down by my mother behind the dinner table; the night outside was black as pitch, and the rain had not stopped the fires from spreading in the forest.

Whilst I bounced my younger brother on my knee, we listened to the radio broadcast.

It had been a terrifying week, full of surprise attacks by the enemy.

“Tilly, are you listening?” my mother said, and I was jerked out of my reverie back into the real world.

“What is it, mother?” I had receded into my shell this past days, and mother had accumulated dark rings under her eyes.

Father had ventured out two weeks ago, and never come back.

We had not stepped out of the house since.

Gregory gurgled, and reached for my long hair, which I yanked out of his reach. The radio’s static garble reached my ears.

The conflict between South Ossetia and Russia has escalated to a dangerous battle – inhabitants of Europe – be on your guard. War is on our doorstep. Nuclear -

The radio went dead, and mother and I exchanged glances.

Our apocalypse had begun.

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