The Rotting Shed

I awoke in the corner of my small rotting garden shed and grabbed a tin from the shelf next to me. Cold beans again, at least they were in date. The early morning sun streamed in through the gaps in the sheet I placed over the small window and the water bottles on the opposite side glistened slightly. It was cramped, but it had been my home for the last six months.

Since the incident it was better not to be seen or heard. It was better to live and travel alone rather than in groups, I didn’t mind being alone, I preferred it that way. I had no one to look after and no one to get me killed. Everyone I knew was gone, but I still thought about them often. My family portrait was balanced on one of the narrow wooden beams, my mothers smile encouraged me to keep living, despite everything.

I looked at my watch that had stopped ticking two weeks ago. But I estimated it to be around eight in the morning. Time to go and find more food.

I lifted my backpack and slumped it over my shoulder. Before opening the thin wooden door, I pressed my ear to the wood and listened. Just birds, the coast was clear. I stepped out into the overgrown garden and faced the ruined house, my house, my family home. I ignored the memories and jumped over the neighbours’ fence, it was safer to keep off the main roads.

The local shop that I had been taking food from wasn’t far, but the supplies were beginning to run thin and there was no fresh food anymore, apart from the strawberries in a few neighbouring gardens.

I approached the shop slowly, there was no guessing who might have been lurking behind the abandoned cars. As I opened the shop door I heard the muffled garbles of my enemy behind me. Shit. They must have been tracking my movements. I raised my hands in the air and turned on the spot slowly. It was then I saw a dozen or more, tall, slimy humanoids with double jointed limbs and deadly alien guns pointing at my chest.

This was it, my time had come. Goodbye rotting garden shed.

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