draliman on life

Here is my story for What Pegman Saw, which this week sees us in Cordoba, Argentina.

I’m not sure what my story is this week. Is it post-apocalyptic? Dark almost-but-not-quite-humour? A damning indictment of the “haves” and the “have nots”? Bittersweet or just plain bitter? Nooobody knoooows.

Copyright Google

Juan gazed across the city at the skyscrapers. Every city had them – bastions of so-called civilisation amidst the ruins. The global drought and subsequent world-wide economic collapse had devastated the world. It hadn’t rained for three years.

Those few had the money to dig deep wells, desalinate water, grow crops. Not for the likes of him, of course. They didn’t have to drink boiled urine. They didn’t have to eat rat, though even the rats were dying out. That chap from down the street was starting to look pretty tasty.

He could leave the city, but Cordoba was his home. He’d been born here, and he’d die here. Probably fairly soon.

No – he mustn’t think like that. There was life, therefore there was hope! Feeling cheered, he ran across the road, chasing a feral cat.

He never saw the truck. Never felt the first drops of rain begin to fall.