Memory Island – flash fiction
“I see you’ve found another one.”
I nod at the old woman sitting on her porch smoking a pipe. I don’t linger to chat. I have to get on with my job. It’s an important one, but most people say it’s creepy. I don’t care though.
I trudge on through the mud. Reach the small island in the center of the swamp. A solitary tree stands to one side. I tie the limp figure on a low branch. Light a candle. Say a prayer.
The Government keeps promising us a vaccine, but it’s been ten years now since the plight. Keep trying, they say. Maybe the virus will work its way out of the gene pool. Forget about what’s lost. I refuse to forget.
I walk down the alley back toward my home. A window opens. An object falls to the ground. I bend down and pick it up. A discarded doll. Another child has died.
©2016 Lori Carlson. All rights reserved.