It’s dark, dry and hot.
The sun shines through a sliver in the sky, though nothing grows here, there are plenty of others living here.
All of them particularly violent and vicious.
You have to be that way in order to survive here. This world is rough, but we still hold on.
Legend has it, a being will open up the sky, let the sun shine brighter and bring us salvation. Old lady cricket claims to have seen them when she was young. Said they brought things in to make new homes. The apartments. They are the darkest homes, small, and either too hot or too cold. The slippery material makes it hard for anyone to live in unless you’re a spider. Some are flooded with sweet liquid, if you can reach it without falling in, then it’s a good treat.
Many are not lucky enough to escape the liquid once they have fallen in. More of a graveyard than a home.
Why would such a “god” give us homes if they were dangerous and not comfortable to live? “Trials of life, only the worthy will live to be saved.” That’s what old lady cricket says anyway.
—
Faint creeping steps climb the wall. The slight ting on the rusted metal is what gets my attention. A spider, on the hunt for its lunch. Many of the spiders in here are mindless, or crazy, I’m not sure which. But young crickets like myself are prime targets.
My family is gone because of them. Just me and my brother now, hiding in the creases of a wooden post, awaiting a savior that may never come. All we have is time, fear and the embrace of one another.
A hug that brings comfort in a terrifying world, hell bent on destruction.
Not sure if I wrote this short story to its full potential but I had this thought of all the creatures living in my old metal shed, and what it must be like in there. I have seen some insanely massive spiders in there, it’s infested with wasps as well so I rarely go in. And the supposed “salvation” is actually going to be me throwing a bug bomb in there so I can safely get in there without being attacked by said wasps living inside the door frame… horrible, I know. It is absolutely necessary though.
Regardless, I hope this short story was decent. Part of my motivation for this was the wordy weekend prompt: hug from Curious Cappuccino.
I haven’t done a short story in years, so don’t judge me too harshly! But do let me know your thoughts on the idea!
Have a wonderful weekend!
~A
Ink & Embers 
I like where you went with this! A dystopian world, where a hug is the only solace these brothers have left.
Taking the perspective of creatures living in your old shed yields a really interesting scenario—a shed to us, a world to them.
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Thank you! It felt like a neat idea so I went for it!
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