Anderson was a cripple.
He had lived his life in a chair.
When the dead came, the news said to stay indoors and stay quiet.
Anderson did as he was told. He couldn’t speak anyway.
A few days after the outbreak, the power died. The lights faded away, one by one till none were left. The lift running up the stairs of Anderson’s house stopped working with them. His home became a prison.
A few days after that the water stopped. It slowed to trickle at first. Then it dried up and flowed no more.
It was somewhere between the two when the rats moved in.
He stayed in his home and he stayed quiet.
Soon Anderson’s stomach burned and his lips cracked. He wheeled himself into his room and locked the door behind him. It was not long after when he heard the steps begin to creak.
He tilted the joystick forward and moved over to the window. The motor of his wheelchair groaned and its batteries failed. It rolled back into furrows it had carved in the soft carpet and came to rest. Anderson tried to ignore the scratching at the door.
He looked out the window and watched the world crumble.
4 responses to “Paralysis”
And good morning to you.
This is by far the most depressing story on the site. It was a weird feeling to know that at 5:25 this morning, I’d seen the best thing I’d see all day.
You took away my title of “Shortest Story”
I’m jealous.
There are a few people on this site that make me feel worse about my own writing. You are one of them.
I really like this story. Its brevity and simplicity make it a really easy read and its conclusion leaves me thankful that I have the option of whacking the Z in the head, then fleeing, or simply fleeing.