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Blitz writing short story attempt on the metro yesterday (10 minutes ride typing into iPhone)
Asphyxiation
You are in an abandoned school in a suburban part of Chernobyl Russia. The last this school had heard of children was more than 25 years ago. The accident had not happened then. The last day the main school bell rang and students of all ages poured out of the classrooms, through the main yard and to their homes was during the emergency evacuation.
It has been an echo of light, wind, and gradually insects and small critters since.
You are here revisiting what you fled from: uncontrollable and instant devastation.
It is noon. The empty classroom's windows let the cool breeze swindle itself into the room. The sun is high in the sky and draws an extended parallelogram onto a side wall and section of the room. This would have once been a light hitting a students table. Something a fellow student of yours or previous ones would have used to bounce off a metallic ruler onto other pupils or the blackboard for giggles.
You're standing tall in the center of these thoughts and memories.
When as if a deadly veil is drawn over you, you drop to your knees.
You ventured back here without knowing that the toxicity of this abandoned area has made it a candidate perimeter to test out weapons.
Four kilometers away, an experimental gas bomb had just been detonated by the military. They are conducting studies on improving a clean bomb that will keep infrastructure up while merely eliminating any living being within a specific radius.
You had no clue. You drove through the warning signs. They're just there to keep people and reporters away anyhow. You were living happily elsewhere, having moved on in life and were simply taking a week off to catch up on childhood memories.
Crouched, you faintly peak at the gray ceiling, pleading to the heavens to explain what is unfolding.
You breathe.
You manage to draw a breath of air in only to realize that you can't blow it back out.
You start to curl onto yourself, feeling the hardness of the cold classroom tiles against your knees as your body begins succumbing to it's own weight.
Your muscles and organs are shifting mode, they're scavenging for a breath of fresh air you can no longer deliver, they're squeezing any supply they have left before complete depletion.
Your vision of the room, the pouring light, the particles of dust floating around, the greyness of a quarter century ago is tunneling inwards into a darkness you do can no longer escape.
Your eyes shut as you collapse onto the floor.
Your remaining supply of oxygenated blood is being consumed by your last thoughts. In your mind, you look up to the sky and curse the heavens.
Asphyxiation
You are in an abandoned school in a suburban part of Chernobyl Russia. The last this school had heard of children was more than 25 years ago. The accident had not happened then. The last day the main school bell rang and students of all ages poured out of the classrooms, through the main yard and to their homes was during the emergency evacuation.
It has been an echo of light, wind, and gradually insects and small critters since.
You are here revisiting what you fled from: uncontrollable and instant devastation.
It is noon. The empty classroom's windows let the cool breeze swindle itself into the room. The sun is high in the sky and draws an extended parallelogram onto a side wall and section of the room. This would have once been a light hitting a students table. Something a fellow student of yours or previous ones would have used to bounce off a metallic ruler onto other pupils or the blackboard for giggles.
You're standing tall in the center of these thoughts and memories.
When as if a deadly veil is drawn over you, you drop to your knees.
You ventured back here without knowing that the toxicity of this abandoned area has made it a candidate perimeter to test out weapons.
Four kilometers away, an experimental gas bomb had just been detonated by the military. They are conducting studies on improving a clean bomb that will keep infrastructure up while merely eliminating any living being within a specific radius.
You had no clue. You drove through the warning signs. They're just there to keep people and reporters away anyhow. You were living happily elsewhere, having moved on in life and were simply taking a week off to catch up on childhood memories.
Crouched, you faintly peak at the gray ceiling, pleading to the heavens to explain what is unfolding.
You breathe.
You manage to draw a breath of air in only to realize that you can't blow it back out.
You start to curl onto yourself, feeling the hardness of the cold classroom tiles against your knees as your body begins succumbing to it's own weight.
Your muscles and organs are shifting mode, they're scavenging for a breath of fresh air you can no longer deliver, they're squeezing any supply they have left before complete depletion.
Your vision of the room, the pouring light, the particles of dust floating around, the greyness of a quarter century ago is tunneling inwards into a darkness you do can no longer escape.
Your eyes shut as you collapse onto the floor.
Your remaining supply of oxygenated blood is being consumed by your last thoughts. In your mind, you look up to the sky and curse the heavens.