Here’s the first bit to my short story. I really want to get this done this year so I hope to have updates often.
Orson wakes and rubs the dirt away from his eyes. Fogged from dust he reaches for his glass of water and knocks it over. His throat is dry as he groans and tries to swallow.
It’s still dark but he knows it’s morning. It’s always dark now. The sun rarely shows it’s fiery glare anymore in this dark desert that’s become the earth. The land is barren, dry and full of trash. The remnants of the people that once lived here. He watched as the people destroyed themselves. It makes no matter to him. As long as people die he’s content enough.