PHOTO PROMPT © Danny Bowman
The sun was low by the time Alison made it out of the city. The streets had been clogged with traffic since the alarm sounded, every lane blocked by dumped cars. In the end, she’d left the Ford and joined a river of humanity drawn to the desert. Beyond the concrete and steel, things felt calmer, voices hushed over the sound of feet stumbling through sand.
A last emerald flash of sunlight and the Long Night fell.
She thought of all those she’d loved as the frost furred her lashes and the cold grew hard. Finally, her heart slowed, stilled.
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. See here to join in and to read the other tales.
The ’emerald’ sunset refers to a phenomenon called the Green Flash. See here.
Word Shamble 