Hope was something she had let go of a long time ago. They all did. The only thing left was her and the few remaining days she felt she had to live. Her food was gone, and without a fire to boil the blankets of snow, consuming it to survive would only prolong the inevitable. Dead of winter had no mercy where she laid in wait, awaiting help she knew was not coming. Before long she too would be left frozen in time like everyone around her when their will to stay alive vanished. Those rotting bodies beside her were the only morbid company she kept. Her body ached and her mind continued to play tricks as she would awaken from unconscious drifts only to find herself still clinging to a cold pointless existence. She was scared but was getting used to the fact that she would die soon like those before her. Being the last soul alive it was now about preparing for it. Allowing the elements to take over and finally start to accept that this unforgiving place would be her prison forever. That was the dying truth.
Story Jots #10 – Dying Truth
Ash Douglas #amwriting, fiction, Fiction From A Photo, Prompts, Story Jots 1 Minute
Published by Ash Douglas
Writer, Poet, WANL Member, Paralegal, Miawpukek First Nations, GymLife, Runner, Bike Writer, & Pun Enthusiast. I like my puns intended. ✍️ “I don’t claim to be a great writer, but I’m enjoying the journey of becoming one” View all posts by Ash Douglas