What Pegman Saw : What remained

 

‘Ever feel you’re being watched?’ said Rudy.

The path ahead was quiet except for the papery rustle of leaves, the creak and batter of crows in the dark canopy.

Dom leaned his rifle on a mossy wall, reached for his tobacco pouch. ‘Who’d you think’s watching?’ A spark, a pop of gas, a pool of light cupped in his palms.

Rudy shrugged, staring at the ground.

The kid had been quiet since illness struck the town, since the night of the pyre and the burying of what remained. Little wonder – the stink had caught in their clothes, formed a greasy coating on their skin. He’d feared it might never wash off.

‘There’s no one watching,’ he flicked the spent butt over the wall into the lake, ‘cos there ain’t no one left ‘cept you and me.’

Dom took up his rifle, cradling it close on the trudge home.

 

Written for What Pegman Saw, the cracking writing prompt using Google Street View as its jumping off point. Today we are at Coniston Water in the Lake District. See here to join in, to read and comment.

 

 

 

 

 

33 thoughts on “What Pegman Saw : What remained”

  1. What a deceptive story! The characters are quiet and seemingly calm, walking together, stopping for a smoke break, exchanging a few laconic words. Into which you drop the story of unimaginable horror – a whole town wiped out by sickness, leaving just the two of them to burn the corpses. And where is the rest of the country – the rest of humanity?
    That’s a true horror story, and you’ve written it beautifully.

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    1. Thank you Penny. My smile grew wider throughout your comment – the snippet of a story had exactly the impact I was hoping. Thank you as always for your incisive feedback

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  5. Indeed, none to watch if none are left. But what if there are other survivors from other settlements? I’d say it’s wise they carry rifles. And I love the way you draw an atmospheric scarf around all your stories.

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  9. Wonderfully understated horror here, Lynn; it really crept up on me. And sadly realistic too, given how many villages were almost completely wiped out by the various rounds of plague in the dark ages. The more modern setting here reminded me a bit of The Stand, which makes me wonder if they’ll find other survivors (as Cristpina notes) and whether they’ll have to use those rifles.

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      1. It’s a terrifying thought. The history of Eneana contains a few terrible periods like that, and it’s difficult to even write about them in a fictional setting. I always end up focusing on how people (at least, some people) are still kind to each other in the face of want and desperation.

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  11. This, my dear, is an amazing story. My favorite line among many is this “A spark, a pop of gas, a pool of light cupped in his palms.” You have outdone yourself. Kudos.

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  12. I loved reading this, the detached style of the narrator, the measured paragraphs and drip feed of characterisation and seemingly meaningless everyday everyday then the bomb. Wow. I am still reeling.

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    1. Ah, thank you so much Kelvin! You’re really very kind and I’m so glad you liked it. Thanks for the useful feedback too, what worked for you. Always good to know. Thank you again

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  14. everything is said with the description pop of light (brief hope) grease smell on clothes (what horrors the child had seen) instantly reels you in. Lovely piece of writing Lyn.

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