By Jeffrey A. Paolano
Renne coughed up phlegm. Her rheumy eyes secreted yellow ooze which she dabbed with a crumpled tissue.
“That’s a fine dinner, fine dinner,” mused the ancient woman through miasma-clouded awareness.
Prol couldn’t associate the meal with the comment for Renne had barely nibbled at the offering. “Yes, the chef serves fine fare here. One must allow the food is a culinary treat.”
Prol felt the grip of Renne’s claw tighten about his fingers, saw the anguish sweep her face, saw her eyes flash a brightening, and said, “God Bless you, Renne, be with God.”
The bony fingers untwined from Prol’s hand.
Great and somewhat heart-warming scene of an ancient’s last meal. Good job, Jeffrey!
Mr. Warner:
I guess we’re the only ones who care about “ancients.”
Thanks,
Jeff
Dystopia at its finest. The future. Well written.. I enjoyed this frightening piece.