THE END OF CIVILISATION - a story in 100 words

THE END OF CIVILISATION

It was deadlier than a nuclear blast – an endless tsunami of sound. Those who didn’t die of embolisms jumped into the ocean in suicidal agony.

Animals, unaffected by the sonic bomb, invaded the towns with astonishing speed – pampered pets fell victim to predators or turned feral.

Within months the cities began to disappear beneath foliage. Pollarded trees hid their scars with luxuriant growth, cracking pavements in their search for water. Unchecked plants climbed telephone wires, reaching though open windows. Mould consumed paper, fabric and, eventually, even plastic.

It was the end of civilisation – but not the end of the world.

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 This is a story written in response to the photograph taken by Roger Bultot and posted for Friday Fictioneers on Rochelle's blog at  https://rochellewisoff.com/  If you visit her blog you can follow the links to read how scores of other writers interpreted the image.

After an early burst of spring in the south of England which brought my new garden to life, we have returned to wintry blasts. Unfortunately the grass doesn't know it's supposed to stop growing, and the lawn mower has been out twice already, and the birds are consuming vast quantities of seed and dried mealworms. Only my vegetable seeds and potato sets are sensibly keeping their heads below ground until the weather warms up - which we hope will be in time for Easter.

Meanwhile, if you're stuck indoors, why not read one of my books? While I work on a third book in my Living Rock series, the first two books, A Volcanic Race and Wolf Pack are available on Amazon, along with Helter-Skelter, a stand-alone historical novel.

I would love to have LOTS more readers and, of course, more 5* reviews!

LAST MAN STANDING

LAST MAN STANDING

When the plague struck I somehow escaped contagion. On my first foray into town for food I didn’t see one adult alive, but I acquired a small tribe of feral children.

Suddenly my cottage wasn’t big enough so we moved to this farm. We have fruit and vegetables to pick, horses to pull the machinery, and space to recover. Each time we hit town for clothes, tools and seeds – always seeds – more children creep out of the undergrowth to join us.

What we need now is books and a teacher – preferably young and female – then it will be perfect.

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WRITTEN IN A RUSH BEFORE MY GRANDDAUGHTER ARRIVES FOR HER FIRST EVER SLEEP-OVER - WITH ME LUCK!  Apologies for the capitals :) Thanks to Rochelle https://rochellewisoff.com/   for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to Marie for the photo that almost - but not quite - had me stumped!