Saturday, May 19, 2012

5.19.20 Manhattan Jungle


Legs burning. Heart racing. Breath tearing in and out of his throat. 
Run. Keep running. Don’t stop. 
He could hear them behind him. Their rushing steps, the breath drawn raggedly through raw windpipes. 
He needed food, to keep on moving through this jungle that was Manhattan. 
 Manhattan — utterly empty. Wind screamed through empty houses, through broken car windows.
Animals had taken over. Rabid and beyond feral.  
If the animals didn’t kill you. The humans would. 
The remaining humans had only animalistic impulses, creating packs, and killing anyone they crossed. 

 Now it was run or be torn apart by fellow man. 

4 comments:

  1. I did not fully understand what was happening until the end... geez. Excellent writing.

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  2. oooh! love that post-apocalyptic feel that you recreate in just a few words. Very nice!

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