The Survivors

For some reason he could not open his eyes. It was the tug on his chest that woke him though. Someone or something was pulling on his left bicep.

“Hold still!” A woman’s voice pushed him back down again when he tried to sit up. He forced one eye open, but his head hurt so badly he passed out again. She must have pulled him away from the wolves, and she was stitching him up.

When he did awake he was inside the earth……wait no……he was in an earthen lodge. The wind outside told him they were in the middle of a tenacious storm. She offered him a bowl of something warm. All she said was, “Drink.” He did, and it was smooth warmth going down. He tasted honey among other things.

She looked at him with a knife in her hands. “I know you’re immune from the last disease unleashed, otherwise you wouldn’t be here….my name is Brie, and I think we should help each other…..but if you ever hurt me……you will be a dead man.” She meant it and he knew it. He tried to say he would never do such a thing…….

He noticed a youngster, maybe 3 years old playing behind her. She said, “His name is Jared, named after his father – long since passed away…..” So that was it, she was alone in the wilderness. And she was pregnant again. He did ask, and she was due in a couple of days. He shook his head that he understood.

“The drink will help you sleep……I’ll need your help in a few days, delivering.” He fell into a deep sleep……thinking that she was attractive, but he was worried about the knife……. at least he did know how a child is born……

from the Apocalyptic Journal

  

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

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Generations

Future generations will marvel at our survival,

how we walked through the fire,

and made it

to the other side.

    

Note: from the Apocalyptic Journal 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

In the Wild Streams

Will our children enjoy the depths of the wild streams when the end of all things is completed? Yes, as the ravens guard the river flow, and as wild geese fly over.

Having been washed by the great trouble we can see now, when our tribulation will end. As cities descend into ruins, the Earth will be healed, and cover over what used to be.

And we will not only bathe in the wild streams, but a new rotation will bring a cooling, and plants will no longer be burned. Our future generations of survivors will feel safe, within their deliverance.

     

Note: From the Apocalyptic Journal

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Apocalyptic Journal

 

I’ve started writing a new series of very short stories, and poetry with an apocalyptic or post – apocalyptic setting. The Last Fish was one of these. I have written in this vein before and really enjoy it.

In these poems – stories you will always see something positive in spite of the end of all things taking place, or having taken place. And you will see some influences from historical Native American – First Nations stories.

Let me know what you think. They will not always be centered on beauty and nature which are ideas I’m known for I guess. They are absolutely an experiment though. They are not always related, but some I think would make a fine novel!

Thanks for reading, and let me know!

     

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies