‘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.
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.
LikeLiked by 3 people
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
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good read!
LikeLike
Thank you ๐
LikeLike
I love this line for how much it says with so little: “Rudy shrugged, staring at the ground.”
LikeLike
Ah, bless Rudy. I remember being younger, feeling incapable of speaking when asked a direct question, all that squirming! Thank you Walt
LikeLiked by 2 people
Mournfully tragic.
LikeLike
Thank you James
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I think you’re right about other survivors and yes, that’s exactly why Dom has his rifle with him. Nowt so scary as folk. Thank you for the lovely comment ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautifully descriptive, Lynn. What a horror story indeed. I would worry about being watched, too…
LikeLike
I think they’re right to be cautious – anything might be hiding in those woods … Thank you Dale ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
great story. I like how well you place us in the situation. Well done.
LikeLike
Thank you very much Josh. Glad you liked the sense of place
LikeLike
Oooo I like this!
LikeLike
Thank you ๐
LikeLike
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.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Joy. I think you may be right – after the plague, food becomes scarce and when that happens people will do anything. Thanks for reading ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLike
A beautifully crafted story that leaves a chill. It reminds me of Ice Nine, although the cause and the effects are very different.
LikeLike
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.
LikeLike
Thank you Lish! I liked that image, of a ball of light cupped in his hands. Glad you liked it and thank you for your generous comment
LikeLike
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.
LikeLike
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
LikeLiked by 1 person
You, you fine writer, are absolutely welcome.
LikeLike
Thank you Kelvin ๐
LikeLike
The picture you have chosen is the perfect setting for your chilling story – kudos!
LikeLike
Thank you very much Dahlia
LikeLiked by 1 person
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.
LikeLike
What a well-told and powerful little tale you’ve concocted!
LikeLike
Thank you Karen ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very well put together.
LikeLike
Thanks so much ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person