This post was written as part of the 100 Word Challenge for Grown-Ups over at Julia’s place.
Sirens screamed. Birds fell silent. The sky turned red, then black as ash started to fall. Darkness came. Streets filled with people, unsure where to go or what to do. The looting started. Then the fighting: best friends, brothers, fathers and sons.
Those who died that day were the lucky ones. For the rest a slower death awaited: cold, hunger, sickness.
The president regarded his horror-struck staff, who were backing towards the door, desperately awaiting his order to evacuate to the underground bunker. “I had no choice! They threatened us!” He took his finger off the red button. “It wasn’t my fault.”