The Girl Lost in Suburbia

she is all alone in a world any of us today would hardly recognize its a miracle she made it this long

The wind blew violently in the twilight of a quite July evening, leaves flown small cyclones around a small human figure of a young girl, about the age of twelve. She wondered down the cold and lonely street vainly scanning the seemingly endless rows of dark abandoned houses for any sign of life. there wasn’t a single sign of any form of it, not even animals dwelled in this forgotten suburbia. The girl felt helpless and full of sorrow, and tears started to well in her eyes as despair sets in.

“Why am I so alone” she thought. It had been years since she had laid her eyes another living being today was no different. Of course she had come across the occasional decaying carcass of some poor soul that couldn’t endure the harsh change in their existence and simply cracked under the pressure of their new life. the girl honestly couldn’t comprehend why she had survived this long herself. She was only a young girl, nothing more nothing less; There was nothing extraordinary about her that endowed her with the skills most of the experts speculated that one needed to last in this wild new world. Yet here she was in the crumbling urban expanse that was slowly being retaken by the natural world around it, and soon the trees will retake their ancient place were their kin once stood.

 She is exhausted from her long day of travel and soon discovers a suitable resting place for the remainder of the night. She scaled a nearby former office building that now lacked windows or doors. She was careful not to cut her hands or feet but even the most careful sometimes fall to disaster and make mistakes. There was a long, jagged gouge in her left palm. She tried to flex the muscles in her hand leading to her fingers only two of her fingers would work. She stared at her hand, her lips were pressed tight as she fought back the tears. She knew this was the end for her; if it wasn’t the infection she was sure would ensue, it would be the loss of the use of her fingers.

She sat on the cold concrete floor with her knees held up to her chest with her right arm, her left held out in front of her as she blankly at the wound. She tried to hold on to the small sliver of hope she had left. If she could make it this far she can beat this, right? 

Author's Note

i wrote this as an exercise to work on using a variety of words and to get better at describing things in my stories