Father Of The Last Civilization

I wanted to get a story posted on here, so here you go.

Wind didn't seem to want to wrestle with gravity that day. I remember it well. It just sat still, collecting the dread of the dead atmosphere as I walked calmly through the destroyed city. Buildings with partially collapsed ceilings and walls were flooded with slowly burning embers and dead bodies of the innocent. Their cries went unheard the night before. The bombs were too violent and quick to give them a chance to ask for help.

 

Looking over at the apartment complex, well... that's what it looked like to me, I noticed the fires were dead. Must've been hit with something weaker. I prayed that the people who lived in there died a quick and painless death. All the families are in a better place, at least I like to daydream that they are.

 

So I continue walking.

 

"They are unholy heathens." The religious freaks that deployed the attack said through Channel 249 on the TV. Sounds like the people expecting to watch a comedy special didn't expect to see a man dressed in red robes come up and say that they were all going to die in payment for their sins against the religion's lord. That part makes me laugh. I'm sorry, I know it's sick, but it just amuses the hell out of me when religion takes faith too far. they accept morals that don't really sound, well... how can I explain it. Not as humane sounds a little harsh... Nah. That sounds just about right. Killing for any religion is unacceptable, especially when innocent lives of woman and children are through under the gutters for something they don't even believe in.

 

The streets were decorated with bodies as well, dressed with beautiful ashy skin and burnt clothing. One person stood out more than the rest. A mother. her arms cradled what looked like a child. i couldn't tell because the baby looked like a pile of ash. maybe she was holding a cross to her chest. I'll never know. It's sad, walking through this destroyed city, but I have no choice. There isn't a home for me anymore. There isn't any home.

 

"help..." a small cry came from behind. I turned immediately, hoping what I heard was an actual voice. It was. A small girl crawled weakly from a wreckage of trash cans and bricks adjacently placed into a mound. Her voice was raspy, just like the movement of her arms and the long, bloody colored hair(I couldn't tell if that was her hair color or if it was just drenched by blood). I approached her, but stopped in shock as she crawled a little closer to me. She had no legs! They were completely amputated from her body, just little stubs with blood still leaking from the muscles and tissue torn up from the sharp edges of the debris. The smell was horrible, almost making me puke. i found the nearest object, which was a fire hydrant, and coughed as hard as I can, attempting to spill any thought of vomiting from my mind. i didn't want to puke right in front of her. It looked like she wasn't in the mood to see what I ate last night.

 

"please... help..." her arms gave up and she fell, hitting her cheek against the concrete. I ran beside her, holding her up and stroking the side of her face as a way of comfort. I know she couldn't really have that pleasure, but it was in my nature to help. I've been through too much to not help whoever I could.

 

"Everything will be alright, dear. It's all over."

 

She looked up at me and smiled. blood stained her teeth. "thank you, mister."

 

I smiled. She had that feeling of content. After all that she went through, probably watching random strangers die right before her eyes and having all that weight collapse on top of her. I looked up to the sky and noticed something peculiar. The sun was shining, but it wasn't alone. The moon was starting to cover it. The sky turned darker as it drifted past. when it came to the center of the sun...

 

*BANG* A gunshot fired off and blood splattered on the pavement. The girl gasped for air as the hole in her head poured blood out like a fountain. She didn't speak, only gasping a few times, then going limp in my arms. My face didn't change. it couldn't. the sudden death of the little girl in my arms was horrifying.

 

I looked up to see a crowd of men standing in the distance. They were all wearing dark red robes. All were armed with guns. i couldn't tell what they were since there were so many, but what I found strange was that the one in the middle had a sword, and on his chest was a black tribal marking.

 

i didn't care anymore. i didn't care that they overpowered me. I didn't feel any empathy for humanity anymore. All that was left was them. i didn't feel human anymore. I don't know how to explain it, but I felt, well... different. i stood up and faced them. Blood flowed into my eyes, enraged at what these monsters have done to the world I once knew.

 

The moon slid from the sunlight, illuminating the world with its rays. I rested my hand warmly against the pistol at my side, ready to die, just like the girl that died in my arms.

 

 

Author's Note

please critique this. I want to know what I did wrong so I can improve it.

PS. I am not trying to mock or insult any religion here, so please don't say I'm offending your religion, cause I'm not.

PSS. I will go back at some point and rewrite this. I promise.