(Author’s Note: Early on in my blogging, to honor the old pulp magazine serials, I began a weekly serial series of various of my stories. I have decided to repost those stories. Each Friday will feature a new chapter until a story ends. Then I will begin a new story. Enjoy!)
Chapter 3: I Weep
I have done nothing for the past few days but lie here and weep. The tears I have shed on this hill shall be my last, there are no more to cry. I only feel a nauseating feeling deep down inside. How long must I suffer? I am beginning to realize that those who died were the lucky ones.
A new month. Who cares. No one is keeping track.
It has come to me that I must explore the city before I die. Perhaps I will find a reason, an explanation, to justify this man-made ignorance other than the childish ones I heard all my life.
I spent the entire day crawling through the ruins of this lifeless city. Don’t know if there was anything important to see. Had my eyes closed.
Bedded down amongst the rocks and remains of a skyscraper that now barely scrapes the ground. ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. He who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces, but he on whom it falls will be crushed.” I wonder who said those things.
(Originally posted here March 2012. Written in 1985 at age 18).