Maybe eventually winter will finish our job for us and end the world in ice instead of blood.
Isaac MarionMy mind has cleared a little; I’ve regained some instincts and associations, echoes of the Living world if not actual memories. Those I still have to steal.
Isaac MarionEven as I think them, the words lose their context, dissolve into grains of absurdity in the vast ocean of day-to-day hunger.
Isaac MarionStichwörter: life words memories
You might say that death has relaxed me.
Isaac MarionOur cadaverous cadre has been walking for little over a day...
Isaac MarionSuddenly exhausted, she closes her eyes and slips into nightmares again. Graveyards rising out of the ocean. Her friends’ corpses in the light of their burning school. Skeletons ripping open men's chests and crawling inside. She endures it patiently, waiting for the horror film to end and the theater to go dark, those precious few hours of blackout that are her only respite.
Isaac MarionStichwörter: dark dystopia nightmares tragic
Her life has seen little light. She is twelve years old but has a woman’s weathered poise. Her abyss-blue eyes have a piercing focus that some adults find unsettling. [...] She has fired a gun into a human head. She has watched a pile of bodies set alight. She has starved and thirsted, stolen food and given it away, and glimpsed the meaning of life by watching it end over and over.
Isaac MarionStichwörter: dark dystopia tragic
It’s more eerie to be alone in a city that’s lit up and functioning than one that’s a tomb. If everything were silent, one could almost pretend to be in nature. A forest. A meadow. Crickets and birdsong. But the corpse of civilization is as restless as the creatures that now roam the graveyards.
Isaac MarionShe remembers sprinting over the thin after-waves that slid over each other like sheets of glass. When she ran with the waves it looked like she wasn’t moving. When she ran against them it looked like she was flying. She refuses to believe her brother will never know these things. Somewhere, they will find sand.
Isaac MarionStichwörter: poetic-fiction ocean
The windows are empty holes lined with glass teeth.
Isaac MarionStichwörter: poetic-fiction
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