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The Last 
by Rie Sheridan Rose

The world is a desolate place now. Ash and agony are all that remain. I watched my fellows slip away one by one…succumbing to plague or pestilence or merely stubborn pride. Anyone who could afford to took to the colony ships and left this wasteland. My mother begged me to join her—even as she backed up the gangway and deserted me.

But I felt a duty to this place. This land of my birth and home of my ancestors. Despite the burning hell it had become, I remembered the lush green paradise it had once been, and I believed with all my heart I could make it so again.

That dream is gone. The moon no longer eclipses the sun, but channels it. It sits in the perfect frame of the archways that used to give onto paradise. The sky bleaches to a sullen gold, all blue eaten by the flames. The moon glows red that once was a pearl in the night sky.

I stand and wait. The heat is building. Soon, I too will be ash—and this world will be no longer.

It’s strange to be the last…

Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

More from Author Rie Sheridan Rose:

Overheard in Hell:
Dark Poetry

Poems exploring hell and damnation. Tales of sorrow, vengeance, betrayal, and redemption. Ghosts, ghouls, and demons stalk these pages. Don’t read in a lonely house…in a darkened room by a single candle…

…unless you like the touch of an icy finger up your spine.

Available on Amazon!