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Ashes of Men by MikaelL
The direct sunlight makes you squint. One of your teeth seems to be falling off. You open your mouth and pull it out. No pain. The white bone rests now in the centre of your palm. It's chipped and yellow with black spots all about. You're dying. Whatever isn't already is. You toss the small tooth over the border of the roof, lie down and shift the jacket under your head into a better position.

You look at the cloudless, blue sky above you and at the sun, swimming in that vast, blue eternity. You think how it shines on a carcass of a world, a dead ant nest, with its inhabitants devoid of any other meaning than desperately clinging to what's left of it. It's going to be another hot day.

You think of the hopelessness. The blindness and the insanity of it all. And the hunger. My god, the hunger. It drives you slowly mad with a constant, inescapable pain that eats into your stomach and into your mind. You've fed for the last few months on the scarce animals you've managed to catch wandering the streets of the city, but for almost a week now you haven't eaten anything, apart from a few roots and insects. You feel weak. You've also only got a few bullets left, so you better not get into any trouble.

You can feel how your bones crackle as a sudden cough attack makes your whole body tremble. You taste blood in your mouth and spit it out.
Try to sleep some more
End Of Story

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