Monday, August 5, 2013

100 Words a Day 341

The voice on the radio faded. It got quieter and quieter until it was barely a whisper. Then the battery died and there was silence. The silence was then replaced with the terror of utter solitude.

The sound of water dripping from a leak in the pipes filled his ears, blocking out the noises of the urban wild that filtered through the small window. That regular sound, the drip-drip of the water, would have gone unnoticed in the bustling workshop that had been here before.

John was totally alone. The broadcast had been recorded, but it was better than nothing.

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