Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
Our house, so far had been saved.
Years ago you would have driven down our road and seen perfect gardens, with white picket fences, and children riding their bikes until called in at night for dinner.
But now, the houses are empty. Not a single sound. You can only walk down our road and not drive as there are burnt out cars, fallen trees and decaying bodies lying everywhere as far as the eyes can see. You get used to the smell. You get used to the sight. What I can’t get used to is our house. Still in pristine condition, two story looking like it had just been painted, beautiful lush green grass and roses, so many roses. Lucky, because the stench of death surrounding you, seeping into you, needed to be masked by every breath you took.
The coin had not been delivered to us yet but we were ready. Mr and Mrs Jefferson from across the road received the coin last. The delivery came to them in the middle of the night. The moon was out and it was so cold. I could feel that something was going to happen. The chill in the air was a warning that they were on their way. I was upstairs and ready to go to bed, it was very late and something just didn’t feel right. I looked across to the Jefferson house and their bedroom light was still on. It was never on after seven at night.
I started to shake, and my body was covered in sweat. I saw movement outside their house and then I saw them.
‘Oh god not the Jefferson’s. Dear god no.’
It was time for them to receive the coin. Please make it quick for them. Don’t make them suffer, they are old, they don’t deserve this. I shut my curtain, turned around and lay on the bed. I curled into a ball. That’s when I heard it. The most terrifying howl from Mr Jefferson. A sound of pure torture. The torture for him, that lasted all night. They had received the coin, and now we were the only house now left standing.