Jump to content


believe victims

Recommended Posts

okay this is a story i typed up in downtime from nanowrimo. i wrote a version of this story years ago but never posted it anywhere but this is mostly done from memory of that because i lost the notebook i wrote the original in. feedback is much appreciated. anyway here it is.




           The sun shone down on a man walking down the streets of New York, clutching his girlfriend’s hand. He seemed beside himself with happiness, half-skipping and swinging her hand about, though she didn’t return the favor. He turned to her and flashed her a smile.

           “Isn’t it a beautiful day out, Irene?” he asked. She didn’t respond. He sighed. “Look, I had to make a choice, you understand? It was for the best.” Nothing. He shrugged, and turned forward again, his optimism unshakable. He spotted a parking meter that had run out and paused to slip a quarter in the slot. He started humming as he walked along again.

           “That’s the thing about people these days,” he suddenly said. “You know, Irene? Nobody really does the little things like that anymore.” He tipped his hat at a window washer, who ignored him, focused on the window. “Everyone’s so caught up in their own world,” he continued. “I think if we all took the time to do something little for each other every now and then, the world could be a better place.”

           He paused and looked up at the sun. “Sure is bright out today, eh, Irene? Not a cloud in the sky.” She ignored him again. “Come on, honey, you love this kind of weather.” Still nothing. “Well, let’s keep walking. It’s not too much farther, dear.” He tipped his hat at a policeman mounted on a horse, who ignored him. The horse whinnied, and the man rubbed its snout.

           “We could do to learn from animals, you know,” he decided. “Animals have it all figured out.” He continued walking, skirting a rather large crack in the sidewalk. “Sure, they fight, but have you ever seen an animal hold a grudge?” Irene was silent. The man shoved his free hand into his pocket and continued on, but waved at a taxi driver stuck in traffic. The taxi driver ignored him, intent on the road ahead. The man shrugged and tugged Irene along. “Come on, this way! We’re almost there!”

           “I think part of the problem is empathy,” the man started again a few blocks later. “We just struggle to care for each other sometimes, you know? There’s so many people. I guess it’s hard to keep track.” He raised a hand over his eyes. “Man, the sun is really bright. Couldn’t ask for better weather for a walk, right, Irene?” Her cold grip didn’t loosen. He sighed.

           “Whatever the case, I think there’s hope, don’t you? I think, as long as there’s some good left in mankind, we can thrive.” He stopped. “We’re here, honey.”





           The sun beat down mercilessly on the last horse on Earth as it trotted through the remains of the ruins of New York City. Guns and bullet casings littered the ground, bodies sprawled over them like dropped toys. The pavement was cracked from the repeated bombings. The horse bucked a little, but it already knew there was no hope of bucking its deceased rider; they were strapped in tight. The horse passed by ruined parking meters, blinking for destroyed cars; a window washer, shot dead on his perch; a street full of cars, gassed to death. And the sun, a hot, sweltering orb, rays intensified by the thick air.

           The horse didn’t care about any of this, of course. It was a horse, and it was hungry. It followed the only movement it had seen to a wreck of an apartment building, where a man in camo stood at the doorway, clutching the severed hand of a woman. The arm end of the hand was burnt, and the soldier held a grenade pin in his hand. His smile was strained with sadness, his crazed eyes red from tears. Then, he spoke, but not to the horse.

           “Come on in, Irene,” he told the hand. “Welcome home. Let’s get in before the world drives us mad.” And, clutching it like a good-luck charm, he entered the building before it collapsed.

Edited by Lucina
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.

Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

  • Create New...