draliman on life

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle, who also provided this week’s photo.

For this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The world had ended.

Plants and flowers withered and died, their once-delicate scent now pungent, cloying. The wind, foul, biting, left an almost chemical aftertaste. The few people still out hurried past, eyes downcast, lifeless. Animals slunk into darkened corners, seeking refuge.

The world had ended. For Shelley Smith.

“He’s dumped me, Mum! He was the one, I swear! I’ll never love anyone else! Not ever!”

She ran into her little en-suite and slammed the door, all tears and sobbing.

“What’s that, the third one this month?” Mum shook her head.

“And there’s still more month left,” replied Dad. “Teenagers!”