Short Fiction- The New Dark. (Part- 2.)

I will write this while fire grants me the comfort to do so. A square of chocolate and a crudely brewed black coffee barely provide me the energy with which to wield this pen. They are a limited delicacy in this time. A delicacy that will quickly fade. To consume such is a celebration. A celebration of being able to put pen to paper in a world such as what has become. I am alive. Somehow… I am alive… still...

Short Fiction- The New Dark. (Part- 1.)

This darkness surrounds. Ever encroaching. Nulling. It claws at my sanity. Tendrils lick, binding heart that threatens to cease. I’ve been trapped here for months now. I track my time here, crudely etching lines into a tree stump that has become my place of comfort. This one didn’t seem alive, however. This tree didn’t seem alive, not in the new sense of the word, anyway. They are the new dark...