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Description
The world was ending. Even the most beautiful of earthly things were peeling away like sun-scorched flesh, crumbling and flaking. The long stretch of highway and open fields ahead of her seemed to take on dull shades of grey. A grey road, littered with grey cars, parallel to grey fields, leading towards the rotting grey skyscrapers in the far distance. Contrasting against the dull world like a cruel joke, the sunlight had faded into a brilliant splash of purple and red above the horizon, unreachable to humans. Weeds reached out from the cracks of the unkempt roads, crawling and spreading like a parasite over the long since abandoned vehicles. Everything around her was a nothing but a remnant of what was. The world had ended.

She had paid no mind to all of this. Positioned atop the backside of one of the only large vehicles that had not yet been overturned, her eyes were fixed on the desolate plain beyond, on a particular speck in the distance. She took in a breath, the air a nauseating combination of rot, smoke and gunpowder that not even the chilling wind could carry away. A scent so potent that, had she not been used to it, would have had her eyes watering, her nose stinging and her gut lurching. It stuck to her clothes and when she licked her dry lips in concentration, she was sure she could taste it.

She lifted the rifle, a sturdy and familiar weight against her shoulder and the tinted scope as much a part of her as her own eyes. It was clearer now, no longer a speck in the distance, but a silhouette of a creature once human, swaying haplessly as the wind shifted, towards the unused highway. It had been following her for miles, hungry for her fresh body and she, unable to find the courage before to get rid of it, had let it do so. But, it was attracting others and burdening her, forcing her to this final confrontation.

Her hands, once smooth and now calloused, adjusted the rifle, the weapon cold and metallic smooth underneath her touch. Her finger found the small trigger and she pulled it just slightly. It resisted against the pressure of her touch, like a final, unspoken, moral plea to reevaluate the action she was about to perform. She held her breath, the world going silent, so silent that her ears rang, before she overcame the resistance and pulled the trigger.

The rifle bucked once, hard, forcing her muscle to contract so she could remain still. It was a sudden, powerful extraction as the silenced bullet exploded from the rifle's barrel and hurled towards its decaying target. Her stomach lurched, sharp feelings of regret hitting her like a powerful blow, as she watched the bullet hit the target right between the eyes, creating an splash of scarlet against the dull grey background. It was as if the world has stopped, extending the moment of her initial grief. Lowering the rifle, she watched, heart torn in two, as the decayed corpse of her only daughter slowly hit the ground with a dull thud.

Description
The world was ending. Even the most beautiful of earthly things were peeling away like sun-scorched flesh, crumbling and flaking. The long stretch of highway and open fields ahead of her seemed to take on dull shades of grey. A grey road, littered with grey cars, parallel to grey fields, leading towards the rotting grey skyscrapers in the far distance. Contrasting against the dull world like a cruel joke, the sunlight had faded into a brilliant splash of purple and red above the horizon, unreachable to humans. Weeds reached out from the cracks of the unkempt roads, crawling and spreading like a parasite over the long since abandoned vehicles. Everything around her was a nothing but a remnant of what was. The world had ended.

She had paid no mind to all of this. Positioned atop the backside of one of the only large vehicles that had not yet been overturned, her eyes were fixed on the desolate plain beyond, on a particular speck in the distance. She took in a breath, the air a nauseating combination of rot, smoke and gunpowder that not even the chilling wind could carry away. A scent so potent that, had she not been used to it, would have had her eyes watering, her nose stinging and her gut lurching. It stuck to her clothes and when she licked her dry lips in concentration, she was sure she could taste it.

She lifted the rifle, a sturdy and familiar weight against her shoulder and the tinted scope as much a part of her as her own eyes. It was clearer now, no longer a speck in the distance, but a silhouette of a creature once human, swaying haplessly as the wind shifted, towards the unused highway. It had been following her for miles, hungry for her fresh body and she, unable to find the courage before to get rid of it, had let it do so. But, it was attracting others and burdening her, forcing her to this final confrontation.

Her hands, once smooth and now calloused, adjusted the rifle, the weapon cold and metallic smooth underneath her touch. Her finger found the small trigger and she pulled it just slightly. It resisted against the pressure of her touch, like a final, unspoken, moral plea to reevaluate the action she was about to perform. She held her breath, the world going silent, so silent that her ears rang, before she overcame the resistance and pulled the trigger.

The rifle bucked once, hard, forcing her muscle to contract so she could remain still. It was a sudden, powerful extraction as the silenced bullet exploded from the rifle's barrel and hurled towards its decaying target. Her stomach lurched, sharp feelings of regret hitting her like a powerful blow, as she watched the bullet hit the target right between the eyes, creating an splash of scarlet against the dull grey background. It was as if the world has stopped, extending the moment of her initial grief. Lowering the rifle, she watched, heart torn in two, as the decayed corpse of her only daughter slowly hit the ground with a dull thud.