a short story by Lydia Isabelle
A solemn shadow walked the empty halls of the concrete carcass. No sound dared reverberate throughout the scene but the blowing wind outside and
the soft chatter of her nails upon hard, industrial floors.
The roof had long since caved in. Jagged slabs stuck out from the ground like stone teeth. Rusted iron bars twisted about from the wreckage like severed veins.
Cracks strewn about the factory bottom. Dust and pebbles marred the surfaces. There was no nature. The surroundings were charred rubble.
Everything had burned, then crumbled. This being, this creature, was all that remained.
She deftly jumped among the concrete. Her paws slapped the ground with the smallest thud. Soft wind crept through the structure and moved her dark fur.
The world before? What world? This was always the same world to her. It was just emptier now.
She could not find food in this structure, but at the very least it offered shelter from the night time elements. The moon began to break through the clouds
like a goddess opening her gleaming eye. The world of man was a farce. This was Truth.
This creature, this moon, and this wind will proceed apace. The end has not yet come. Nature and the goddesses will persist.
Her head is now peaking through the empty doorway of the brutalist building. Triangular ears raise up to hear for sounds in the mess.
The process continues. She starts out. Black void collides into the gray void. Synthesis.