Dusk

The world will be black like the ebony keys of a piano, powerful, discordant and unsettling. A light is needed but no one can find a torch in the gloom. It won't be the darkness of night but of ignorance, pig-headedness and ambition. The human desire for ever increasing wealth and power, more and more – even when there is nothing left to take.

The young woman will sigh to herself as she stands at the bus stop in the sweltering heat, hand shielding her eyes form the harsh glare of the sun. She will be already late, otherwise, she told herself, she'd have walked, 'done her bit for the environment' and all that but if she looks close enough she'll know it's already too late. It is 2013, five months after the world ends, since the night of humanity had descended and any dreams of love and joy are banished into legends of a past no one wants to remember.

Thursday 20th December, 2012 will be a grey day, the colour of dusk, when World War III is announced. The young woman will marvel at how the world could turn to such nightmarish chaos in such a short space of time. Her friends and family will all have left for the battle lines, some will have died, and yet she will follow.

The bus will pull up, three minutes late. The woman will climb eagerly into the ferry to hell. An hour later, the bus will arrive at a sterile military compound. The woman will disembark, giddy with excitement and anticipation, salute sharply as she presents herself to her commander.

'Cadet.' he will greet her, indicating she follow the twenty or so other men and women clambering into the bullet-proof bus, heading towards their deaths.

Find a light, it's almost dusk.