We no longer tell our children about fairies, not when there's so much more to worry about now. We tell them about the days when the sky wasn't a red-tinged grey that stank of burning meat, when birds didn't fall from the sky like meteorites, when our warmth came from the sun and not the chaos trapped in our ozone layer.
Some say it came from the stars, mistaken for a comet and expected to be shunted aside by Earth's gravitational field. By the time we realised that it was steering itself towards us, it had already begun its descent and we could do little more than rush to whatever shelters our countries provided.
We were lucky enough to live near an old army bunker which hadn't been in use since the last World War but protected us better than our neighbours. Their bodies were still burning three weeks after the initial impact, poor folk tried to hide under their stairs for all the good it did them.
The networks are all down, no signal can get past whatever interference the burning sky is producing. Everywhere we try, every possible method of global communication is full of dead air and lost signals. We have no way to know if anyone's survived but travelling at night, when the burning sky is quieter and the air is more breathable.
During the day we can see it coiling around the world, great flaming tendrils snapping and crashing into anything they feel like. Lucky for us we seem to be too small for them to bother with. That or it finds our struggle to survive amusing enough that its letting us wander about to entertain it.
Either way,our generation will be dead soon enough and with us die the memories of blue skies and fresh air.
Some say it came from the stars, mistaken for a comet and expected to be shunted aside by Earth's gravitational field. By the time we realised that it was steering itself towards us, it had already begun its descent and we could do little more than rush to whatever shelters our countries provided.
We were lucky enough to live near an old army bunker which hadn't been in use since the last World War but protected us better than our neighbours. Their bodies were still burning three weeks after the initial impact, poor folk tried to hide under their stairs for all the good it did them.
The networks are all down, no signal can get past whatever interference the burning sky is producing. Everywhere we try, every possible method of global communication is full of dead air and lost signals. We have no way to know if anyone's survived but travelling at night, when the burning sky is quieter and the air is more breathable.
During the day we can see it coiling around the world, great flaming tendrils snapping and crashing into anything they feel like. Lucky for us we seem to be too small for them to bother with. That or it finds our struggle to survive amusing enough that its letting us wander about to entertain it.
Either way,our generation will be dead soon enough and with us die the memories of blue skies and fresh air.
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