The Lark
Published in

The Lark

Pretend It’s Just Another Day

Post-apocalyptic fiction

I couldn’t tell you when the explosions started. Sometimes I count the sounds of them at night as if they’re fireworks from that bygone age when a loud noise wasn’t the coming of some threat to our shores. At night, each bomb blast ignites the sky with fire, but so far they are just warning shots — the sign to tell us that the invaders are out there and that they know…

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