Every week a group of writers get together. Each of them select a picture and write 200 words about it. Some are hot, some are blistering but all are entertaining.
My installment is called ‘Mutation’ and is over the recommended length by about a hundred or so words. This is a new direction for me, something completely different which I’m offering as a free read on my blog, it’ll go up every Tuesday, or the day before and it’ll have it’s own section on the banner.
I got my picture from Pinterest, and I’m pretty sure it’s a picture from a comic based on the X-Men.
The air was toxic. After the bomb anyone caught outside when the wind blew hard run the risk of breathing in the deadly smog that travelled on the air.
Clara made sure that the gas mask was correctly attached by running her fingers along the seam. When she was sure, she stepped into the air tight room and switched the button that sucked out the air in the room. She quickly pressed another button as her ears popped and her outside door opened.
Everyone lived underground now but Clara could see the doors that led down into the depths of the earth. The streets were nearly deserted except for a few travelling to the local market. It hadn’t escaped her notice that it would have been easier to get to, if the market had been underground but the tunnels had never been completed.
In the earlier days, just after the bomb had hit, the rubble had been cleared. That happened before people realised how dangerous the gas was. Clara still had to step over random pieces of debris to get to her destination.
Everything looked grey and lifeless; nothing grew in the city anymore. She’d just reached a point that the sight made her sad. There was nothing in the derelict city that brought her or anyone still living there joy. She glanced up at the bank of clouds and the spot between her shoulder blades itched.
The toxic cloud effected everyone differently, some it killed outright, some died after a few pain-filled days and others…changed. She remembered the day she thought the gas had leaked through. Clara had nearly died of shock as the pain had ripped through her, making her body arch and sweat to break out all over her exposed skin. After the pain had resulted in her blacking out, she had the fleeting thought that it was all over, nobody would think to look for her. Her home would become her tomb.
She was one of the lucky ones but if the exposure had been more severe, then she wouldn’t be walking down the street. She also wouldn’t have the wings that were hidden by her coat.