Emma’s bare feet pounded hard asphalt, she was too late. Running she passed deserted houses.
The power company had assured that radiation levels were within the approved levels. Still they insisted on immediate evacuation. It had to be serious this time.
Jefferson was doomed, still the sun was brighter than ever.
Heartbeats, wet with sweat, she stumbled, vision blurred.
She reached the bus-station, screaming.
“Wait for me!”
Fat Bob with family was ready to board the last bus out of Jefferson.
The bus swayed as Bob entered the bus. A sign reading “maximum capacity 3 tons”.
She would be left behind.
It is three years since Rochelle took over running Friday Fictioneers, and this almost coincides with my first entry. Friday Fictioneers is one of my favorite places, to exercise my writing. I try to keep it to exactly 100 words. This time I decided to rewrite my old story.
October 21, 2015