A mountain range sprawled upon the muddy coastline.
Twelve scaled beasts approached it. One cracked a rotted bone under its paw. Before their pack, the silhouette covered the sky line, in front of a black sun.
On the other side, the mountains rose against the sea. Only the bottom of the range was underwater, but barnacle and lichen covered rock extended halfway up. Between two peaks, a pool of seawater teamed with three eyed fish, water spiders, and various crustaceans.
The south was where the water stretched off into sea, while the west was a bay which could be seen over. Where the mountain range faced the sea, many things had found a refuge. A ridge of evergreens, on a greater mountain, kept most of the old life. While a tall rocky spire, which was a little further into the sea, held those that were beginning to adapt.
In a cave up upon the mountain, sitting on a cold stone floor, were two figures. The room was messy; blankets lying half knit beside broken toys and stolen furniture. They rested on eachothers shoulders, letting the worries of the world melt away.
The sun began to peek into the mouth of the cave, and one of them shielded their eyes. Getting to their feet, they walked to the entrance, and clumsy untied a string hooked to the wall. A roughly made tarp of animal skin unfurled.
Exposed to the open sea, an outcrop rested above the cave. Upon it, patches of brightly colored flowers, unlike any else on the mountain, crept along the ground, and up the mountain face. Tufts of green grass covered the earth, and sprung between cracks in barren ground.
In the center of the garden was a dead tree, lying in wait for its caretaker. Empty clothes wires had been strung between its branches, rattling with the dying orange leaves. To its side, moss covered a sitting stone, lost in the underbrush of a thorn bush. Among its roots were six shallow mounds, each protected by a carved tablet.
‘Here lies Lease Lester,’ one read, ‘a poet, a musician, and a friend. May calipsion enjoy his tales as much as us. 3002-3017’
Around the mountain, to the north and east, and across the bay, an expanse of grass stretched off into the distance, moving to the sigh of the wind. It was a wild, dead place, inhabited only by scavengers, and those beings lost after the cataclysm.
Most days they ate whatever they could find. The boy tried to cook, but the girl wouldn’t really care if he didn’t bother. Their day to day lives were often rather trite; with episodes of intense fear either from dangers in the grassland, or from complete randomness after too long spent on the mountain.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Neither slept well most nights. The girl often refused to, while the boy had frequent nightmares. He suspected she did as well, though she never seemed to wake up like him.
A plume of smoke began to rise from somewhere deep in the evergreens, as a blind man rested his axe against a fireplace. He felt like his body was rotting already. With a sigh, he fell into his armchair.
Far away, in the grasslands treasury, was a tall building that could be made out from the mountains. Abandoned not too long ago, messages flashing on a terminal in its third floor read: “Directives from A7, proceed with stabilization of anomaly 92. (Traces of 92-1 are to be terminated on sight.) Do not attempt contact with anomaly 92 under any circumstances. Muffle type-3 radio signals. (24/6/17, 16:07)
Directives from A3, failure to achieve goal acknowledged. Muffle all radio signals. (27/6/17, 01:47)
This facility is now under the high council's justrstriction. Liquefaction of all documents regarding subject EX-H2 has been automatically initiated. Evacuation rejected. Complete liquefaction of site-19 is set for 1/7/17, 00:00. May Sam Last Eternal. (30/6/17, 31:57)
…
Time passes. Snow covered the mountains, bones buried beneath the cold. The sky is blotted out by a thick fog of black clouds. Upon the rocky spire, perched on an unrecognizable plateau, was a metal tower emitting a high pitched sound. The grassland was hidden beneath a white blanket.
The ocean was blisteringly cold, and one could hear great things moving about when underneath. Thudding, and shifting things, like an avalanche echoing under the waves.
Upon the mountains, in the evergreens, the roof of an empty house had collapsed in. Old warrens were buried under the snow, trapping the creatures inside. Wandering in the woods were feathered shadows, nearly half the height of the great trees. They walked like flightless birds, with long stickly legs.
Deep in the forest, a figure lay in the snow, blanketed in a feather cloak, with an axe lying to their side. A book had fallen out of their bag. They tried to climb back to their feet, but fell once again. They were tired, far too tired. And the nights ahead could only be survived without sleep.
In the end, they would pass easier as a dream…
…
Time now passed again. Most of the mountains are sand on distant beaches. It's a barren place, lonely. For ages, sunsets have come and gone without being seen. All life stripped bare from the planet by the great red star, which engulfed the entire sky.
The bones of a creature that never lived, scraped clean by the desert winds, coiled around the coast. Deep beneath the land, the ocean lay quiet. A fault that had slowly grown over the years cracked. The bay of bones roared in defiance, as the rocks broke in. It caved inwards. There was a great noise, as it all fell apart, timeless amounts of buried things taken by the sea, and then there was a great silence.