It was the hubris of each generation to think this anew, to think that their time was special, that all things would come to an end with them.
Hugh HoweyMots clés apocalypse
Lovely sight, the Apocalypse! But absurdity, without limits? No Sir! there have to be certain limits...
Louis-Ferdinand CélineMots clés apocalypse absurdity
Most kids grow up leaving something out for Santa at Christmas time when he comes down the chimney. I used to make presents for the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
Jeanette WintersonMots clés revelation apocalypse end-times
But this was not quite the right kraken apocalypse.
China MiévilleMots clés apocalypse end-of-the-world kraken squids
The temperature of my blood dropped several degrees, and I took a step back. My heart quickened. "Storm?" I prompted, looking at the boxes on the dock labeled "non-perishable.
Kirby HowellMots clés romance survival apocalypse young-adult
I used to be Autumn Winters, daughter of an actress and an architect. I had been one of three living in this home, but now I was just Autumn Winters, and I was alone.
Kirby HowellMots clés romance survival apocalypse young-adult
The only bright corner of my heart, where nothing seemed to hurt, was where Grey was. When I thought of him, I could see a future where I could be happy again, where I might not be just like I was before the Crimson Fever, but at least a version of myself that felt whole.
Kirby HowellMots clés romance survival apocalypse young-adult
His touch was like an electric current that ran through his fingers into my cheek and down the back of my neck.
I took another step back, away from him. "Don't do that," I whispered and hated the part of myself that died for his soft touch. "Why? Why do you do things like that if you agree we shouldn't be involved? It's confusing and... and you make it so much worse." My words tumbled over each other as they poured from my mouth.
He didn't reach for me again. His blue eyes were sad.
Mots clés romance survival apocalypse young-adult
I stopped looking at the cars after the first few miles. Once I started to see past the exteriors, I saw what lay inside some of them and felt the urge to sprint to the nearest freeway exit. Some people had tried to outrun The Plague by leaving town. They hadn't realized the illness could still find them in their cars, and now the 405 was one of the largest graveyards in the world. I thought for a moment about all of the other cities across the globe that probably had scenes just like this. My eyes stung, wondering if my mother, my dad, or any of my friends were in similar graveyards.
I made the mistake of glancing into an overturned Volkswagen Beetle as I passed and saw a pair of legs clad in jeans and white Jack Purcell sneakers in the shadows of the car. They reminded me of Sarah's shoes. The man who laced those up that morning hadn't realized he wouldn't be taking them off again.
Mots clés romance survival apocalypse young-adult
I opened the door of my mother's stand-alone wardrobe and let the smell of her wash over me. I loved having this one unspoiled part of her left just for me. I leaned forward, slipped my face in between the hanging silks and chiffons. Her scent was warm and possessive. If my idea of home had a smell, this would be it.
Home. Mother. Oh God, please. My face crumpled, and my knees gave out. I pitched forward into her hanging clothes, grabbing at her blouses and dresses, smelling of gardenias and dusk. I fell to the closet floor, pulling some with me. I toppled amongst her shoes; stinging eyes squeezed shut, mouth frozen open in a silent "O." They were out there somewhere, their lifeless bodies, still and cold, and they would never be coming home again. I curled my legs inside the wardrobe and pulled the door closed, shutting myself away with her memory.
Mots clés romance survival apocalypse young-adult
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