Diversified Writer
5 min readDec 6, 2023

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Post Apocalyptic Diaries: Norman and Norma

(New episode every Wednesday)

How do. I'm still not dead.

Once again I find myself walking the streets in the eerie silence of a once-thriving metropolis. Bert is quiet today padding close by my side, dare I say it, he's a little nervous which makes me nervous.

I trapse the desolate streets, my tattered empty backpack slung over my shoulder. We desperately need supplies. The air is thick with the stench of decay, and the city skyline, once vibrant, now stands as a haunting reminder of a world that has crumbled, the ghosts of skyscrapers falling in slow motion as time eats away at them.
I try to shake myself out of this gloomy mindset but it's a grey day and I feel shattered. Lack of food and constant motion are making me too lean.

Suddenly Bert goes running off.
"For fucks sake Bert get back here."
But the little sod scampers down an alleyway. Wearily I follow him, I'm too tired to be alert and that's how I stepped into the trap and now I'm dangling upside down with a rope around my ankle. I'm in agony as I feel the rope bite. Bert comes running back and looks up at me giving a single bark.
"Are you happy now you little shit?"
He inclines his head and whines. I'm wondering if I can reach my boot knife, it'll take a lot of strength. I start straining and grunting as I move.
"Well, what do we have here?"
Shit! Raiders, two menacing figures cloaked in rags circle beneath me, relishing the sight of their captive. They have about three teeth between them. One of them has a baseball bat studded with nails. His companion, a wiry figure with a scarred face, chortled menacingly, twirling a rusty blade in his hands. The setting sun glints off the jagged edges, casting an ominous glow.
"Hey Hank," says the baseball bat wielder, "Shall we whack the piñata? See what falls out."
They laugh, an unpleasant sound that has nothing to do with mirth. Bert growls menacingly at them.
"Oh, A mutt! Them's good eatin' not seen one for a while.
By this stage I'm pretty weary of life and pissed off at Bert but I have to try and distract them from hurting him.
"Oi, Cletus and Jethro. Let's fucking get this over with shall we? Cut me down and we'll settle this like men?"
Bert steps forward a couple of steps determined to protect me. His fur is standing on end and I've never seen him so angry.
"Easy there…

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Diversified Writer

Darren is a short story and novella writer. He likes tall tales that have humour and heart. He’ll occasionally bring you poetry, finance and health blog posts.