Shush

It was the end of the world, and everybody knew it.
In the streets below, parties, riots and orgies burned as people sought each other out to reunite, kill as needed, and die.
In a dark apartment high above, a quiet sniffle, and a hesitant wail grew louder as a weary mother rose to cradle, shush, and rock her newborn back to sleep. Klaxon cries were muffled by the warmth of a breast and as eyes drifted closed
with contented clucks and swallows both sat by the muted blue of the window and longed for sleep before the coming dawn.



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I just got word that this is going to be published on the Drabblecast sometime soon. Very cool.