There was once an underground bunker, it had once been full of life. And then they all left them to his misery. His wife had gone into a nearby town to live alone in a hut made of brick and wood. Not safe in his lair, underground, metal, built to withstand the end of days. Which had never come. Which meant it was going to come - to end all life. But now his family was gone and he sat alone in the depths of the tunnel, going topside only to hunt food and bring in fresh stores of water.
Topside was dangerous, every snap of a twig had his attention. Every bird chirping in the trees. But the odd silence of the afternoon collecting wood for added warmth and comforts was all he had in his arms. All around him eyes flashed in the shadows. The silence was deafening so when the growl sounded in front of him, he dropped the sticks. They clattered to the ground as a large grey wolf leapt from the path and then there was darkness. He hadn't even had time to scream before the snout of the wolf tore through his throat.
Blood gushed. His body felt cold as he lay on the dusty leaves of a harsh winter. No one would miss him, he wondered if anyone would ever know.
Topside was dangerous, every snap of a twig had his attention. Every bird chirping in the trees. But the odd silence of the afternoon collecting wood for added warmth and comforts was all he had in his arms. All around him eyes flashed in the shadows. The silence was deafening so when the growl sounded in front of him, he dropped the sticks. They clattered to the ground as a large grey wolf leapt from the path and then there was darkness. He hadn't even had time to scream before the snout of the wolf tore through his throat.
Blood gushed. His body felt cold as he lay on the dusty leaves of a harsh winter. No one would miss him, he wondered if anyone would ever know.