This week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt was supplied by Lora Mitchell. Sorry if it’s a bit dreary, but I’ve done horror to death in recent weeks and have indulged in fantasy and sci-fi for other challenges this week.
The others left hours ago; there seemed little point, so I stayed.
Outside cars have queued for hours, their rear-lights dancing in the raindrops spattering my window. No headlights in sight; nobody is heading this way.
No-one with any sense anyway.
One by one the lights in the skyscrapers are winking out and here in my apartment I’ve lit a candle to save whatever electricity remains. Habit, I guess.
The lily’s waxen petals begin to droop and curl.
It’s nearly midnight, and now the traffic is still, silent.
Nothing is moving, except the petals, falling like tears on the windowsill.