I'm back to the contest thing.

55-fiction is harder than it would seem. I'm just lucky that the crap I typed out came to exactly 55 words. xD;

- - -

The sky is electric. Skeletons of veins dance through the storm.

They’re burning.

The trees, like bibilical statements of ages past.

The future, in the wake of falling debris.

The cottage.

The boy.

The girl.

“I can’t wake up,” she screams against his heart, into his ears.

“Can’t fall asleep,” he murmurs through the smoke.