Rie Sheridan Rose

So, I went out to garden, but it looks like rain, so my neighbor suggested we wait until after the storms they are predicting so that the ground will be easier to till and the plants will not be battered first thing in the ground. Can’t argue with that logic.

I did re-pot my peppers in a bigger pot, and we put liquid seaweed on a lot of the plants — all the ones I hadn’t added Flower Power to.

My across-the-street neighbor who was going to look at my truck got called into work — plus the battery was dead — so it is on the charger now, and he will look at it later.

Since that effectively shot all the plans I had for “working” today, I have been playing a game. A very special game, because I won it in a writing contest.

You see, the other day, someone posted a challenge on Reddit — I believe I mentioned this — and you had to write a post-Apocalyptic tale in 300 or so words. There were a couple of other shorter entries, but mine won. Though I might expand it later, I wanted to share the original with you guys. Here is what I submitted:

She crouched behind a fallen wall, peering cautiously around the edge to gauge the number of raiders collected around the campfire. It was dusk, so at least she had shadows to hide in. She eased open the rusty handgun to see how much ammo she had left. Four shots. And at least seven of them. Not odds she was particularly cheered by.

But she was hungry. And the scent of the rodent roasting on the spit over the campfire was enough to make her do unhinged things…like attack the group. 

Shifting position silently, she almost gasped aloud as her knee contacted painfully with a sharp rock. Hold on a minute…maybe she didn’t have to be as stupid as she had originally thought.

She had passed a large carnivore a few meters back. No doubt, it had also been drawn by the scent of the roasting meat…but the fire would keep it at bay. If she could get one or more of the raiders to head in that direction, however, she might have an unwitting ally in this whole affair. She felt around her for the largest stone that would fit easily into her hand. 

Silently winging a prayer to any deity willing to listen, she lobbed the stone in the direction of the predator skulking in the shadows. It landed with a satisfying clatter.

Heads swiveled around the fire. “What th’ Hells was that?” growled one of the raiders.

“Go and see,” ordered the biggest of the brutes. He was probably the leader. No way he would go himself into potential danger…

“Why me?” whined the first speaker.

“Because I told you to. Take Jak.”

 Jak must be the one in the leather vest. He looked startled by the command.  “Boss?”

 “Both of you. Now.”

The two raiders scooped up a burning brand from the edge of the fire, and she ducked in tighter behind the wall. 

The scouting party cautiously stepped out into the night. “There’s nothing here,” called back Jak — just before an inhuman scream split the night.

There were more cries, and some wild shots before the human screams took over for the other.

The leader bounded to his feet. “Ned? Jak?” 

There was no answer. “Let’s go,” he snarled to the rest of his party, drawing a hogleg pistol from his belt.

The remaining raiders, over-confident in their position, if you asked her…tore off in the direction of the screaming.

Quick as a firefly, she darted into the camp and grabbed the end of the spit. For good measure, she swept up a pack that lay beside the fire.

No more than twenty seconds, and she was running off into the night, away from the sounds of the fight. Life wasn’t easy in the Wasteland.

I really do quite like that.

Anyway, I won copies of Fallout and Fallout 2. These are games I have long been interested in playing. Of course, even the game is chiding me for wasting time on the computer:

But it is a lot of fun — and it is Sunday, so I feel no qualms about it. 🙂

Tomorrow, it will be back to work for sure — unless we have to go out of town on a family matter.