The cloaked figure stood absolutely still. She looked across the bleak, barren landscape. The last of autumn’s leaves were falling from the trees and winter’s cold grip would soon be upon her. She knew that she would not last the season.
The only signs of life were the blackbirds circling in front of the large white orb suspended in the mostly white sky. Was she the only land creature remaining? How could what had once been so beautiful and so hospitable have become so unwelcoming, so desolate?
She was hungry and tired. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate or slept. She was lonely and alone. She was unable to recall when she last saw or spoke to another survivor. She couldn’t face another day.
She removed her cloak, and laid it upon the hard soil beneath where she stood. Her frail, weakened body was barely able to hold her up anymore, so she carefully kneeled down, her knees on the cloak. She bowed her head, and said one last prayer, a prayer that she knew would go unheard by a god she was now sure never existed.
She laid herself flat on her back on her cloak, taking one last look at the sky that before the beginning of the end used to be blue. Then she closed her eyes and almost eagerly awaited the release that death would bring.
Written for today’s one-word prompt, “cloaked.” Sorry for the bleak theme. Image credit: mary1826 on Pixabay