ASH IN THE LIVING

The silence didn’t last long. It never really did.

Her boots thudded against the cracked asphalt as she sprinted through the ruins, the cradle pressed tightly against her chest.

Each step sent sharp jolts of pain shooting through her legs, but she pushed herself to keep going. The city was far too dangerous to stick around.

At first, the streets were deserted empty like a graveyard. Windows gaped like hollow eyes, doors hung limply on their hinges, and the skeletal remains of once-majestic buildings slumped against the horizon.

But soon enough, the world reminded her it was still very much alive.

She ducked into an alley and froze, her breath caught in her throat. Ahead, two men were locked in a struggle over a filthy sack.

Their faces were gaunt, skin stretched tight over their bones. One wielded a knife, while the other brandished a rusted pipe. Their shouts rang out, raw and desperate, until the knife found its target.

The man with the pipe staggered back, clutching his side as blood seeped between his fingers. He crumpled to the ground, eyes wide and staring into nothingness.

The survivor yanked the sack free and limped away, leaving the body behind in eerie silence.

Her grip on the cradle tightened. “Don’t look,” she whispered to it. “Just don’t see any of this.”

She pressed on.

Further down, smoke stung her eyes as she passed the charred remains of a house. A small body lay in the doorway, still and wrapped in a tattered blanket that might have once been pink.

A woman knelt beside it, rocking back and forth, humming a lullaby to ears that would never hear again.

The sound was soft, almost tender. And it was worse than screams.

Her chest ached, but she forced herself to move faster. The cradle felt heavier in her arms, but she refused to let go.

The road widened. In the middle of it, soldiers marched worn uniforms, rifles slung over their shoulders, boots thudding through the dust.

Behind them, civilians stumbled along with their hands bound, faces blank. The soldiers barked orders, and the prisoners complied.

No one dared to resist.

She crouched low behind a crumbling wall, heart racing, barely breathing.

Around her, the city murmured tales of hunger, sorrow, and chaos. Yet in her embrace, there was nothing but stillness.

So she softly replied to it, trying to reassure herself that her words held weight:

“You don’t need to be scared. I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let this world harm you.”

Her voice trembled, but she pressed on.

Because in a landscape of ruins, sometimes the only thing that could keep someone going was a comforting lie.

To her right, half-buried under the rubble, a man weakly clawed at the ground. His body was a mess, one leg twisted in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

His lips moved, but all that came out was a dry rasp. He reached out toward her, his hand shaking.

She turned away.

“Not him,” she whispered to the cradle. “I can’t… not him.”

Her feet carried her forward.

The city stretched out endlessly, its wounds still fresh and gaping. Black smoke spiraled into the sky, bringing with it the stench of charred flesh.

Flies buzzed around the remains of both animals and people. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, then whimpered, and finally fell silent.

She pulled the cradle closer. “Don’t listen,” she murmured.

Suddenly, a sharp crack of gunfire shattered the stillness. She dropped low, clutching the cradle tightly. Ahead, across a courtyard littered with rusted cars, a group of scavengers dragged a screaming boy by his hair.

“Food!” one of them yelled. “Where is it? Where is it?”

The boy cried out, kicking helplessly. A fist quickly silenced him.

She slowly backed away, each movement deliberate, her heart racing. She knew better than to step in.

When the screams faded behind her, she finally allowed herself to breathe.

By the time she reached another street, her legs were shaking. Sweat mixed with ash stung her eyes. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, each one catching in her throat.

She stumbled into the shadow of a collapsed tower and sank to her knees. For a long moment, she just sat there, cradling the bundle in her arms, rocking it gently as her vision blurred.

“I’ll protect you,” she whispered hoarsely, the words spilling out like a prayer. “Even if the whole world falls apart, I won’t let them touch you.”

But in the distance, faint and sharp, came the sound of boots.

Rhythmic. Purposeful. Drawing closer.

She froze, every nerve alight. Someone was coming.