Wasteland... A Short Story... (My Submission To The Writers Block Writing Challenge - @rhondak) 500 Words...

Contest Prompt:

"Write a 500-word story about a character whose flaws make them a less-than-ideal protagonist, yet they go on to achieve some form of greatness despite being “written off” by everyone who knows them. This is a complex theme, and word count is minimal, so this is quite a challenge. I will be looking for someone who can bring this theme across effectively and efficiently". 

https://steemit.com/writing/@rhondak/writing-contest-submission-window-opens-today

Dave tried to look back into his memories to understand how he got to this place, how he became the one – the only one. He screamed as loud as his damaged lungs would permit and asked out loud how the world around him could become so barren and charred. Looking past the burned out corpses of what used to be magnificent high rise apartment buildings, the 1960’s art deco facades still apparent even as one structure blended with the other. Blackened steel girders all warped and twisted, almost like eerie metal skeletons dancing in the smoke that was still rising from deep beneath their foundations. Concrete block and stucco walls seeming almost purposely dismantled and piled up to serve some future purpose - that purpose hidden in the madness, obscured from any possible reasoning.

Many months had passed since the events of November 6, 2021 that created the destruction engulfing everything the eye could see. Dave realizing the date as he flipped through the pages of his meticulously maintained journal, speaking out loud he looks up “seven months four days and…” his voice drifting silent as he tries to judge the time of day by looking at the sun’s position in the sky “well I guess about thirteen hours now…” again his voice drifts off, but for another reason this time.  

Realizing the time and visibly shaken by the thoughts running through his head “oh shit, I’m gonna be late” he again says out loud while trying to pack away the few things he has managed to scavenge over the last couple of weeks. The meager belongings have taken on an almost sacred value to him, as if they were newly discovered relics from a long forgotten philosophy. 

With the care usually reserved for precious artworks and ancient glass vases, he places the two cans of vegetables, four boxes of Uncle Ben’s minute rice, and the partially melted Swiss army knife into their own corner of the now cherished earth colored suitcase that blended into the surrounding area so perfectly.  

On his way back through the maze of debris that has become so familiar, Dave continued to be on the lookout for anything that might be useful when the time came to finally leave this place – the whole time thinking to himself “I’m gonna make it this time, I have to make it”. Knowing all too well he might not live to see beyond Station Street, as far as he made it last time. 

The few minutes back through the debris field seemed like hours. He was painfully aware of the consequences of even a couple minutes. As he reached the barbed wire fence of earth’s last oasis, Dave looked over his shoulder and smiled – knowing tonight was the night he would depart from this hell.  

As the gates of Schofield Woman’s Prison slowly opened, one after another women began to appear, all fighting among themselves until finally one emerged victorious and said.  

“you wanna eat, serve your purpose asshole”     

Well everyone - that's my story and i'm sticking too it... @rhondak - please don't be to hard on my writing, this is the first time I have EVER done a fiction, much less anything straight out of my head (whoa - scary stuff in there)...

Thanks for reading and I look forward to seeing you in the comments... 

MDG...

Thanks @thewritersblock, @originalworks, and @rhondak for the contest...