Friday Fictioneers-Destruction

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PHOTO PROMPT – © Copyright Jean L. Hays

The virus leveled us. Well, most of us anyway. What was left of humanity wasn’t very human anymore…

There was no such thing as comfort, or down time. Survivors were on the constant hunt for supplies and food. Mandy was tired and more than once thought of putting the cold pistol to her head and ending it. She had no idea what stopped her. Maybe it was hope that there was something more to life than survival.

Pockets filled with ammo and a motorbike humming between her legs, she set out on Route 66, hoping to find a life after decimation.

Genre: Post Apocalyptic Fiction/100 words

Thanks Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this exercise in discipline. It is a joy to work with you and have you comment on my work. Along with all of my other friends from Friday Fictioneers.

Dear Readers, be sure to check out the other stories found on the little froggy link on Rochelle’s page. Thanks for stopping by.

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Face

84da5-miroslav-tichy-artists_32_29Photo courtesy of filmcamera999

A man’s face is his autobiography. A woman’s face is her work of fiction.
~Oscar Wilde~

Beauty and peace is what they see.

How to tell them that both are a lie?

My eyes hold sadness.

Fear.

My lips long to kiss that of another.

To lay my heart beside his, and live forever.

I’ve been told I have the perfect nose.

Why not the perfect ass?

The perfect thighs?

I want to be happy.

Content.

There is no pill for what I crave.

But still I want.

Always, want.

I need a smoke.

A vodka and tonic.

A moment.

For myself.

For life.

Freedom.