Six Sentence Sunday: The city was dead, and the streets were cold.

Yet another snippet from my little clockpunk Pied Piper project! :)
 
 

The city was dead, and the streets were cold.

Humans still clustered together, here and there, fading pockets of heat and shaky jerks of movement like the final shudderings of a cadaver’s muscles. They clustered and breathed like some old arcane ritual, the purpose of which had been forgotten long ago, and waited patiently for all of the motion, including their own, to still. They spoke in roughly hushed voices like wind whistling through broken walls, their tones as coarse and dull as stone, and their words themselves slowly, slowly, weathering away.

It was cold and dead and colour was all but gone, spilled blood eaten by the earth in days gone by.
 

It was here he found her bleeding in a back alleyway, a scrap of girl curled up against the cold, covered in goosebumps and her own blood but still refusing to shiver.

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4 thoughts on “Six Sentence Sunday: The city was dead, and the streets were cold.

  1. Amazing. Breathtaking imagery, a sinister tone, and a melancholy atmosphere so dripping with sadness I can almost taste it. I LOVE your writing style! =D

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