The Dead Earth

Genre: Dystopian/Apocalyptic, Tragedy


© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

Photo – © 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

The Dead Earth


Once upon a time in a land far, far away, the vegetation was lush, green and abundant: Then it changed.

Pollution, Chemical Spills and Acid Rain Storms killed off all what we had. Farms and crops and livestock – dead. There was nothing left to feed on and millions died.

The water from our rivers and lakes are now poison to our flesh. The air is so thick with deathly chemical waste that gas masks we wear day and night.

None of us know how long we’ll survive.

This wasn’t an accident: For decades there were warnings – all which went ignored. They knew this would happen and Campaigning did little, though it was fought tirelessly.

And, this now, is the result of man’s greed. The lust for power and wealth. What can man do with that now?

It’s over.

This is what the Earth has become… permanently uninhabitable: Dead.


* * *

This is my 1st entry into ‘Monday’s Finish the Story’ and what fun it has been (even though it’s a miserable story!) Still enjoyed it! 🙂 ‘Here’ is the link.


Where We Tread

Genre: Dystopian/Apocalyptic


Photo Source

Where We Tread


Who knew this would happen. Without warning, the blaze hit like a volcanic eruption. Rivers and lakes became steam, and the charring land blackened.

We know we have to keep moving. We are heading east, to get as close to the sea-line as we possibly can.

The wreckage, the disaster, the panic.
Abandoned vehicles, mangled roads.
Broken down buildings, homes in ruins.

Drifters are all that are left, the lucky few that survived; or the unlucky.

We have to be as high above ground as we can; the earth is still scorched and the air is not breathable. Though, the farther east we travel, less dense is the fog that burns our lungs.

Time is no longer important, that stopped when the catastrophe happened. Now, all we have left is hope and faith, and even that dwindles.

Our homes and loved ones are gone. Millions have perished from hunger and disease. There really is nothing left.

We cannot go back, so all we can do is keep moving, keep travelling east and hope the salvation we are searching for awaits.

Warily and carefully we continue.


* * *

Thank you Angela Goff for another VisDare writing challenge here



Our Liberty is Determined


Genre: Dystopian




They ruled us, made slaves of us, their own people, we, who shaped this country with our bare hands, putting dirt in its soil, sweating blood, making homes, making the rich richer and this is how they repay us. Enslaving their very children; our forefathers would be ashamed.

We came to the conclusion that without us there would be no land, no harvest from which they could fill their fat bellies, no mines to dig the precious stones and metals they so desired. We put our faith in these men and in return they gave us this: Poor shelter, confinement if we even stepped out of our own boundary, the boundaries they put in place to stop each of us communicating with the others.

Now the time has come and we joined forces: Men, women and even children from across this country to bring down a government so tyrannical in their rule, letting us starve and survive on the measly pennies they threw at us.

Once we were a rich nation full of abundance and wealth with a democracy; despite even then the apparent social unrest, but it got worse. As decades,half centuries and centuries went by, the country found themselves at war with even their allies. We lost.

The dictators piled in and took over our beautiful land and turned it into an unjust and unfair state, creating more poverty than any other nation had known. They were our new rulers now and many believed it was for retribution for how we kept ourselves in years gone by, nourished, clean, prosperous.

This is our story and this is how it ends:

We have formed together, killing the nation we once loved – one stone, one brick, one politician at a time. We are setting the standards for a new world to rule where we can say “This is what we built, this is how it should always have been, this is ours”.

WE no longer fear penalties as there wont be anybody left to distribute them. We are heading for freedom and that means battle and an end to this way of life.

The year is 2513, not the future that was envisioned in 2013. we were set for much bigger things: How they change so quickly and we never saw it coming. Now though we are armed, ready to take down the empire. Brothers, Cousins, Sisters and Friends in the few countries on this globe that is left – all ruled by the sadists that run our own very land, are taking a stand. We found a way to communicate with each other and it wont be before long we are back to better times.

I must rest now as the future needs strong-minded men. And united, we will rebuild this land and the whole planet that we will, again, call home.

* * * * *

Prompt #FWF ‘Free Write Friday’ Image prompt by Kellie Elmore. Image source here

Enhanced by Zemanta

Unity Divided

Genre: Dystopian



There are 2 Province’s, 1 where people are free and 1 where they are not. I’m In the second group.

My school is next to the dividing line. From my desk I can see the freedom that the Province 1, or P1, girls and boys enjoy; no worry of their futures as they have one and can choose whatever they’d like. Us though, we have no such luxury, especially if you are an X like me.

The X,Y and Z’s of our Province are destined to work for the state however they see fit. We are nobody’s, we may as well not even exist. Whereas the A-C’s have every privilege they desire….. Here, we live by a ration system. And the state chooses what we are allowed at every given month depending on our social contribution….. And lack of rebellion.

The rebellion of our forefather’s made things worse. We were now no longer to grow on our merits to leave our province and join the prestigious P1. There was though one stipulation: Marriage. We could leave P2 if we wed an A,B or C. But, the chances of that now are slim. The Provincial Heads declared we could only marry if we underwent rigorous tests and interviews that are in place to determine the love between the two candidates are genuine and real.

In the past, the A-C citizens would have marriages of convenience to get the X-Y’s their freedom. The historical rebellions ruined that too. And that guarded secret came out through a harsh interrogation by the Provincial Heads of our then, P2 Leaders, and they changed the Law so it’s no longer as easy as it was. Even still, it is a way out, only if the love is genuine and of sincere intention and is believed.

I sigh deeply.

Through the window I see Ayra waving to me from his Schools playing field. Ayra and I have had a secret love-crush on each other since we were about 10. But, because of the strictness of the states rules, we are forbidden to spend time with each other; that doesn’t stop us though. Every week we meet up in the desolate farmhouse that once brought our province a generous amount of wealth – not as much as Province 1 – they’ve always been more wealthy than us – but Ayra and I now use it for our private meet-up’s. I waved back at him making sure the tutor’s back is turned to avoid severe punishment. Ayra smiles back up at me, along with the signal that we meet tonight. I smile back and signal too so he knows I’ve received his message.

Alone in the old barn together, talk turns to a sore subject. Ayra desperately wants me to live with him in P1. The problem is that my family have no way of leaving P2 and that would mean I would have to say goodbye to them for good. But Ayra insists he won’t let that happen, that his Father, an influential man, will grant us secret access as long as we remain silent. Part of me wants to be with him ‘there’ and the other part does not want to leave my family knowing the life they will be living in comparison to the one I will have. Yet this is the choice I must make.

Tonight, Ayra gives me a token of his commitment to me, a strong metallic key that is small enough to hide in my pocket. He say’s that it is the key to mine and his future. I know my family would let me go, they would be happy for me, yet I will not feel the same. However, I must choose. I look at Ayra, his warm brown eyes smile at me as they always do, and I tell him that I will come with him, marry him and live in P1. But our fates are still in the hands of the Provincial Heads whether they see and believe us as a genuine couple and accept us as Man and Woman. I sigh heavily. But Ayra says he can find a way, a way he could get me in. Via his Father I’m guessing, but he say’s that’s not it. What he tells me next I cannot comprehend.

Province 1 are planning an uprising. Why would they bother, I wonder, but apparently they don’t agree with the Provincial divide either and want justice for the way we in P2 are treated and have to live and survive so harshly: They want Unity, a Treaty and agreement that the A-C’s and the X-Y’s are treated as equals. 150 years ago we did live like that. But because of greed and power, when the rebels set to overthrow the State, we became disjointed – one Province having all, one having nothing. Yet before then there was no divide. I guess P1 has decided it’s time to go back to how it was. If this happens, which Ayra has sworn is taking place soon, I won’t need to choose between him and my family. I don’t know when or how this change will come about or how long it will take and if it were even possible.

But, we are still only 15 and our marriage could not take place anyway until we are 17; maybe it would happen before that time, if everything goes accordingly to their demands as Ayra has assured me it would. And then after what seemed like hours in the farm-house, I lay my weary head on Ayra’s chest, hoping and praying he is right. Time will only tell that fate and I drift off to sleep.

Ayra wakes me an hour later. Dozily I get up. We have to be so careful that no-one see’s us and we head back to the fence where we first met all those years ago where we cut through the dividing line: We always giggle at that. It was time now to say goodbye for yet another week. Ayra leaves me with encouraging words, assurances and his love. We hold one another one more time. Then in safety, I return home to P2.


* * * * *

Daily Post Writing Challenge: Names. 17th March 2014 by ‘Tim’