Carly

It fluttered on the fence—the small piece of tattered fabric. I would have recognized the pattern from anywhere. Small eggplant coloured dots on a lavender background. It was once her favourite shirt. The shirt she was wearing when it happened.

I remember the day clearly. The sky was blue and the park full of kids, all of them laughing as they played.

But then they came. Their flesh greying, the smell of them making the breath catch in your throat.

Now I track you through the city, looking for bursts of purple among the decaying faces of the dead.

All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2014 Julianne Snow

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