The post apocalypse was given a name change. The remaining politicians met in secret. It took three days of debating and the last of the sacred reserve of folgers coffee. They decided upon Fresh Expression. When they went out into the remaining human communities, they did so dressed in the garb of preachers. They praised the survivors as the those who were fresh picked to spring forward into the new world. They spoke of true believers who had survived the fires, floods, and freezing that the greed of the old world had caused. These isolated communities sat and listened to the politician preachers. They nodded their heads along with the passioned speakers who had come so prepared to wow and woo. The politician preachers would have survived longer if they had come prepared to fight. The village witches stepped forward as if to embrace the politician preachers and promptly slit their throats. The village witches knew what bullshit was best for: fertilizer. And so the politicians became food for the fields that fed the masses.
The prompts for this short story:
prepared to fight
fresh picked spring
Copyright 2019 Klaudia Grady