I never know where the Muse will take me when I start a Friday Fictioneers story. Mine tend to be less bleak. I guess this one is the product of a less than stellar summer. Or maybe it’s just a story my Muse really wanted to tell. :) On with the words!
As I maneuvered the rusty little boat onto the lake I looked back at the makeshift grave stacked with stones. We came so close to making it all the way. We got careless, sure of our invincibility. I’m the only one to see the dream come true. She is gone.
Darkness fell before I reached the shore, lights beckoning. I dug through dwindling supplies for my binoculars. I wanted a glimpse of the new world. All I saw was death. On the shore. In the windows. Bodies ravaged by the mutated flu virus. Only lights remained. I am the last.