Six Sentence Sunday: Rats’ Alley

As they are prone to do inside of my brain, a new project has appeared!

It started as a single snippet of dream, this one, a dream where the only thing I could remember was kissing someone goodbye at the end of the world.

The dreambit stuck with me, and multiplied, and began to spin itself into storybits instead, scribbled out onto pieces of scrap paper when I had a moment here or there. The storybits then ended up tucked inside of my purse, and were carried around with me until I almost forgot they existed.

In the meantime, another character popped into my head, and began offering me snippets of her own post-apocalyptic world. I decided to focus on writing those down and making a proper story of them, but then, suddenly, I remembered post-apocalyptic setting #1, the world from the dream.

And then it began to dawn on me that the two worlds were one and the same, that the two stories were really just two sides of the same coin; and so I fished the original snippets back out and am now happily at work attempting to put it all together, under the tentative working title of Rats’ Alley. :)

So here we go!

She had kissed him, before he left, or perhaps he had kissed her. She was no longer precisely sure, not of that nor of a great many other things — had she truly wanted this, had he truly wanted this, would (or could) this have ever happened any other way, would it ever have a chance to happen again —

But this was simply the way of things, here, in the brand new unworld.

There were no permanent memorials to be had, anymore. There were far too many names and entirely too few eyes, too many finger-bones and not enough hands, too many skeletons to sketch out on stone. Everything was fading, fading, all but gone; but still, you clung to what you could.


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