• J. P. Walters

The Human Disorder

Devious crumbs of hot ash patted Simon's dusty shoulders as he steadied the rusted pistol. The high winds had brought with them an anorexic atmosphere of flourishing oppression, and soon, its claws would clasp around his sore throat. Twelve enduring years of dissolving marriage had flown by with the force of a hormonal hurricane, yet with all that unconditional devotion came suffocating conditions. Mary hated his guts and would sooner have torn them out while he slept than express her love. Yet, Simon would have given anything to feel the sharp tusks of her infatuation one last time. When that bastard born flash engulfed the sky, he rushed home to her as quickly as he could, clambering over mountainous and overgrowing heaps of scorched corpses. Their hellish screams and guttural screeches for mercy had once fallen upon numb ears, but now they were a sickly language of mankind's future. How can a man continue to live when he can no longer remember what made it a life? Simon squeezed hard on the rough trigger...


I want to aim to create on of these stories every week. It is simple and I find them to be great exercises in concentrated writing.

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© 2019 by J. P. Walters. 

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