It was a quiet day in the Capitol – the quietest it had seen in days. An uneasy stillness filled the air, as the streets remained deserted. Death – dark, terrible death fouled the Earth, the colour of evil leaving its stain. The air was strife with the stink of ozone, overlaid only by the rotting stench of flesh – human flesh. Crows circled above like thick swarms of darkness, fixed on their next meal. A gong sounded, sending its vibrations far and wide, echoing and reverberating. It was a signal; slowly, a door creaked ajar, a tiny face peeking out into the open. In quick succession, another opened, followed by another and soon, the shanty streets released their small occupants. The children all scrambled out of their crudely-constructed huts, weary of their narrow time constraints as they foraged for food. The older amongst them helped the younger when they slipped and stumbled out of fatigue and gnawing hunger. But they had long since ceased covering their eyes to protect their innocence against the pockmarked corpses that littered the ground. For it had been months since they were young in all but age; worldly weariness gleamed in all their eyes. Suddenly, and all too soon, the warning gong rang in the air again. Within seconds, all of them were back inside, doors all slammed shut.
It was quiet in the Capitol – the quietest it had seen in days. It was quiet, but how long it would remain was another question.
Hafsa Khalil 