Desolate

The fires were extinguished and a thick cloud of smoke shaded the sky. A shrill moan emanated from some corner in the desolate wreckage but there was no one in the vicinity to listen and respond. No one was alive and the ones who were wouldn’t stay for long. But all of a sudden, another voice that of the scrunching footsteps echoed around. Some one had come back for help. The voice of the treading increased in frequency and then, it just stopped and didn’t rise again.

*Written in response to the Five Sentence Fiction Challenge.

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