Short Little Stories

The sky was bleached the color of fading bone, a dry and dusty hue made even paler by the drifting clouds, and even the faint light of the setting sun only served to cast a bloody shade across it all, red and orange tendrils bleeding across the horizon like wet paint crawling across a canvas.

Andreas turned away from the sunset, his bare feet making no sound as he softly padded across the cold steel rooftop. He shivered at the feel of the metal on his skin, taking solace in the chill reassurance of the world around him. The city remains. The city endures.

He could feel vibrations carrying through the metal frame of the building. The citizenry did not notice the omnipresent hum, and even those who did had long since grown used to it. It was birdsong, crashing waves, white noise – but to Andreas, it had meaning. The thrumming of the city’s heart, the pulsing of its lifeblood, the shining song of a metal world that had embraced the parasitic life that burrowed through it on each and every day.

It was glorious.