When I saw the door for the first time, I cried.
I’d been out in the devastation for so long, barely surviving, that I couldn’t even remember what safety felt like. I didn’t really believe the signs that led me here, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go. There was nothing left. I grabbed onto the last spark of hope I had managed to find in over a year and followed the hand-written signs along the highway that promised walls and safety.
Looking back, I can still hear the moaning mass of dead slowly shambling in my wake. It was risky to open the door; but they did, and I managed to slip into safety just in time.
I was the last to come through the door.
We haven’t seen a survivor in decades, but the door remains – a beacon for those who might still be out there.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction prompt where we are given a photo and asked to write a 100 word story – beginning, middle and end. I wrote this one to 150 words before I realized this wasn’t Monday’s Finish the Story; but I like it as is, so I decided to leave it.
It’s my first time posting for this prompt. I’m hoping it will be a regular.
Click on the blue froggy to read other amazing 100-word stories!