Once my Grandfather said; ‘we broke the world. Sent everything up in smoke and flames, and even if we’re alive that’ don’t mean the world ain’t broke”. I never really understood those word after all he’s still here, my father too, my brother; and me...

  The road seemed a little cleaner today, a scavenger crew had probably passed through while I was working in the southern quarter yesterday that also explained why my pack was nearly empty. I sighed stretching my legs out over ledge of my vantage point atop the concrete hill. The city really was beautiful, ever since Luck first taught me how to scavenge I felt the buildings, the streets, the cars everything was beautiful. Everywhere you looked the world was green. Flowers bloomed from asphalt and trees sprung from  high-rises, the city was filled with colour and light; on sunny days the concrete was warm, almost soft, crumbling away beneath the weight of time and life. My father always says the strangest things when he sees it; that “Life is a funny thing” and that “Nature is astounding”, he isn’t really a man of many words.

  The sun was starting to set, light dripping down over the west pouring, molten gold, over half sunken buildings. It was about time to head home.

  The world ended once, in twenty-twenty-five; the American’s with their Democratic-Republican civil war, the dissolution of the European-Union, the collapse between western and eastern trade – everything was slowly, silently, going to hell. And then when things couldn’t get worse “some dumbass hit the nuke button”... You can thank my brother for that phrase.

  Of course all of that was nearly fifty years ago.

  I sighed my breath misting in the chilled air before me vanishing into the encroaching night. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, its’ light dying, the vibrant greens and golds fading to shades of purple, staining streets cluttered with concrete blocks and glass shards as slowly in the distance a fire sparked. First one then another; lanterns slowly blooming, fires stoked, light sprinkled down upon the ruins; small insignificant circles of light to stave off the dark, like stars upon the earth, but nearer, warmer...

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Hey look who’s back!” A sharp voice called out from the top floor, Luck leaning forwards against the railings of our little ramshackle home, causing the whole house to creak. We really did need to replace the western wall. I returned Luck’s wave, before stepping forwards through empty doorway and into the sitting room a large burly man leaping up

“Ha ha my darling daughter, don’t suppose you got much of a haul today. Mr West dropped by earlier said a scavenger camp were making their way north!” I grunted handing over my pack, an ancient creaking rising up deeper inside the house.

“Dawn’s back?” Grandpa rasped the old man looking up from his spot by the window, sending me a weary gap toothed grin. “Dear little Dawn, well if the birthday girl ain’t late to her own party!”

  Huh?

  “Are you senile!” Luck cried throwing open the hatch leading up towards his room before jumping down from the second floor.

“I told you use the rope ladder; I don’t want to be replacing any more floorboards ‘cause of your shenanigans!” Father yelled jabbing a finger in Luck’s direction the young man giving him his usual grin.

  It was in that moment I knew; they were going to do something stupid again.

  My father laughed turning in a single fluid motion, grabbing me by the waist and hoisting me up and carrying me forwards into the kitchen, the trio letting loose a

“Happy birthday” as he did. He sat me down me down on a tree-stump in our little garden where we had set a large fire pit, the whole ‘room’ fenced in by a rough brick wall.

  They were always pulling this kind of nonsense. We didn’t have the food or the funds to waste on parties. “Come on lad’s here’s to another year!” Luck laughed pulling a large spitted pig out of the pantry shed holding it high above his head as Father bent over the logs slowly setting the fire before returning the cry

“To Dawn and the Wellford Family Scrapers”

What were these idiots celebrating in the first place?

  I let free a small smile, it wasn’t like I could help it’; even if the world did end, I’m sure they’d still find a reason to celebrate.