User:Sannok/words
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silver
(for Rosslessness's Short Story Contest)
the silver lining at the edge of the cloud is a myth. when the sun breaks through the sky, the only thing that happens is that the wasteland of this city gets revealed. every edge of broken concrete gets lit up, every twisted steel support beam glows, every broken window glitters. the horde screams in the distance, twisted vocal cords blasting their joy at finding fresh meat. can zombies feel joy? regardless, they scream. my spine tingles; no matter how many times i hear that noise, i can't help but shiver, like the silver edge of a knife is peeling my skin from my bones.
