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Weekly Contest #340
Static, echoes of cries that never happened. Warmth running down the cheek from a cut that couldn’t be. Pain of a wound that wasn’t there, memory of the pain that never was. Panting as he stood surveying the destruction about him, wiping the nonexistent blood from his cheek. He moved towards the cries that echoed, unheard. Finding a body half was nothing more than charred destruction, the other untouched. Yet it cried without a breath to cry with. Paul moved forward; something had happened, and he couldn’t remember what. He saw an indent...
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