“What’s that mama?”
“That’s a duck,” replied Harry’s mother, as her seven year old flipped through the pages of the worn out picture book.
“Did the bad air kill all of them as well?”
She nodded, the sadness visible in her eyes as her mind drifted to the nuclear war launched in the name of freedom and defending innocent people, which had led to the slaughter of far more innocents and the ultimate destruction of half the world and its inhabitants.
Harry went into peals of laughter as his eyes rested on a platypus, coming across yet another funny creature, the enormous grey animal with the funny long nose being a special favourite.
Harry’s mother checked the oxygen level in his room, kissed her son goodnight and went to stand in line at the water purifying section of the underground community, where the few hundred humans who had been lucky enough to survive and rebuild, now lived together, their freedoms lost forever.
Written for Six Sentence Stories