Wrote this and submitted it to a journal at my University in the hopes of it being published as part of their student talent anthology. It was rejected, of course. Que Sera, Sera.

It is here for your enjoyment though, and because I don't want to feel like I wasted about 3 days of my life. Any con-crit would be appreciated, although bear in mind I had to keep it short for the word limit. I was literally within about 3 words of being too long. But other than that go nuts.

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He edged apart the thin red rag of a curtain and peered nervously outside. It was getting dark, and he strained to see any movement. For a moment, something in the distance caught his eye, and he pulled the curtain slightly closer around him to prevent too much light from spilling out.
“Charles. Charles, you’re mewling again”
“Sorry dear” he responded absently, eyes still locked outside.
“You’ve been out of sorts all day. Tell me what the matter is”
Charles closed the curtain and turned to his wife, who was staring compassionately at him from her old armchair. Her hands were folded in her lap, and her head was cocked very slightly to one side in a way he had always found endearing. Rose had never been a beautiful woman in the conventional sense, but she had a kindness about her which Charles had loved for many years. In their old age, especially now the world was as it was, she was his greatest treasure.
“Are you waiting for someone?” she prompted politely. Charles paused, looking at the floor and placing a hand on his own armchair.
“Ah… yes” he said quietly.
“Is it Paul? Can you ask him to fix the boiler, if it’s not a bother”
“It’s not Paul. It’s a… business friend”
Rose tutted and gently shook her head.
“Chares, I hope you’re not going back there. You were so happy when you got to retire, don’t you remember? Said you were going to take up gardening, but you never go out there now” He shuffled over to the window and peered out, but she continued “I’m sure it’ll need weeding soon. You can use that kit I got you for Christmas. I’ve not seen you use it once yet”
There was another pause, before he shut the curtains again and turned to her blankly.
“I beg your pardon?” he said faintly. She frowned and seemed about to pout, but seeing the paleness of his face she stopped and patted his hand reassuringly.
“I’m sure Paul can sort it when he gets here” she said, smiling.
“Paul’s not coming dear”
“Well I know not today. But next time I mean”
Another pause. Charles glanced over to the window, and then to the kitchen.
“I’ll make us a cup of tea shall I?” he said, already bustling to the small kitchenette. He grabbed the kettle and shook it, hearing plenty of water inside. Then he opened a small drawer in the corner and, making sure Rose couldn’t see, quickly pulled out some dry kindling and pushed it down onto the oven hob. Then he took out an old silver cigarette lighter and lit the bundle, placing the kettle on top. Next he opened another small drawer and grabbed the only two cups inside, as well as a small tin of tea bags. Opening it, he sighed. Not many left, he thought. Reluctantly he took one up, and placed it in a cup. There was a knock at the door. The tin slipped out of Charles’ shaking hands, and a small billow of dust was kicked up as tin and contents both hit the kitchenette’s tiled floor. Rose swivelled round in her chair.
“Charles? Are you ok?” she asked. He rubbed his face and tried to keep his hands still.
“Yes… yes, I’m…” he croaked, and then paused while he composed himself “Yes, I’m fine” He knelt down slowly, holding his back, and stared in horror at the dust covered teabags. Supressing a groan, he picked them up one by one, shook them, and placed them back in the tin. There were only five left.
Another knock at the door, slightly more enthusiastic. Rose moved to get up.
“No! No, I’ll get it!” Charles insisted as he saw her. For a moment there was panic in his eyes, but he tried to hide it as she looked over. Cautiously she sat down, and as he passed her he placed a hand on her shoulder. She smiled.
“Just stay here,” he whispered gently “I’ll be right back, everything is fine”
“Oh, I know,” she nodded “but it’s nice to hear you say it”
He walked slowly to the hall, peering around to the front door as he went. It was thick wood with several locks, all in place. Before it was a tall potted plant that couldn’t be seen from where Rose was sat. As Charles approached it he stopped, reached into the leaves and pulled out an old hunting shotgun. He checked to make sure it was loaded, but knew it would be. Gently he rested the butt under his shoulder and slid his finger around the trigger, while he reached forward with his other hand and began sliding open the doors locks. He rested for a moment on the door handle and took a deep breath. He opened it slightly, keeping one foot behind to prevent it opening any more, and with a grim expression pointed the gun barrels at the figure waiting in the corridor outside.
“Delivery service” the figure rasped, seeming unfazed by the gun aimed at his midriff, if indeed he saw it at all, but that was perhaps because he was carrying his own rifle, as well as having a machete strapped to his thigh. It was mottled and dark red, but not with rust. His face was partially hidden by a bandana wrapped around his mouth and tucked into the top of a Kevlar vest, but the skin that was showing was dark, and not naturally so. It was rough, dirty and blistered, and thin strands of greasy black hair stuck to it from under a beaten sports cap with welders goggles resting on its peak. Covering all of this was a dirt-covered duster jacket, cut off, or perhaps ripped off, at the knees. Along his back was slung a large black bag, which he now dropped unceremoniously to the floor. He pulled it open, selected a particular bin bag from the several inside, and lifted it up. It dripped.
“Dog, mostly,” the figure announced “although there’s a bit of-”
“I don’t want to know” hissed Charles, grabbing for the bag, but the figure pulled it out of reach and flicked down his bandana so that Charles could see his full face. It was pitted with scars.
“Woah, woah. Since I made the trip all the way over here you could at least invite me in, eh?”
“I don’t think so” Charles replied flatly.
“Hey, it weren’t exactly easy finding the place, and this bag gets heavy after a while. What, you think I took the bus or sommin’?”
There was a short silence, and then Rose’s voice came from the other room.
“Charles, is it your friend? Are you going to invite him in?”
Charles’ heart sunk. The man in front of him grinned in a shark-like fashion, revealing dark brown studs of teeth and infested gums.
“You think I’m gonna go for the bird, eh?” the figure rasped a laugh “Don’t worry about that, old timer; any woman of yours is too old for me. I like my meat feisty. Rape just ain’t the same when they lie back and accept it, know what I mean?” Charles only stared in response, almost unable to keep his lip from shaking. His grip on the shotgun tightened. As the silence lengthened the figure cocked his head to one side. It felt like a twisted mockery of Rose’s mannerism, but Charles knew that couldn’t be the case because the man had never seen her.
“You can’t come in” Charles said.
“Then you can’t eat” replied the man, dropping the bin bag back into his larger pack and picking the whole thing up.
“Wait!” Charles took a step forward, and the man smiled slightly. Charles looked behind him, and then leant forward lowering his voice. “Look, she… she doesn’t know, ok?”
“Know what?” asked the man sceptically, but with his curiosity piqued.
“You know…” Charles hesitated, and then nodded to the corridor outside. It was scorched in places, covered in thick layers of dust except for the footprints of the visitor and at the far end the wall had collapsed, allowing the harsh night air to bleed through. The man stared around, and then looked past Charles’ shoulder into the home behind. The walls were lined with flowery wallpaper, faded but completely intact. The floor was carpeted and free of any debris. Beyond that, into the lounge, he saw a fireplace with photographs of relatives, a hanging picture of a painted countryside, and in the corner a cushioned rocking chair facing a small television. A look of wonderment took over his face, and he grinned at Charles like a child.
“She… she doesn’t know?” He croaked, and Charles swallowed hard as the man wheezed a laugh “That’s brilliant! She doesn’t… I mean, that’s the first time I ever came across… I mean really. She doesn’t know? Wow”
Charles pulled himself straight and locked eyes with the man.
“And it’s going to stay that way” he said with steel resolve. The figure threw up his hands in mock defeat.
“Hell, fair play to ya’ old timer. I can appreciate a good bit of trickery. My lips are sealed, tighter than a virgin’s -”
“Enough!” Charles spat, baring his teeth “None of that either. She’s a good woman and I won’t have her listening to the filth you come out with”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. A real angel, sure, just like you” He took a step forward, but Charles blocked his path.
“You’re not coming in here with those things either” he nodded to the rifle and machete “Leave them outside”
“Aw, doncha trust me?” the man said in sickly sweet rasps, but silence was the only response. Shrugging, he dropped the weapons, and then pushed past Charles to enter the hallway. He slowed down and stared in amazement at the plant, and Charles took the opportunity to shut the door and then close the gap between them, always keeping his shotgun at the ready. Together they walked to the lounge where Rose sat waiting, humming slightly to herself. The man stopped short as he saw her and smiled. Though he said nothing the sound of his harsh ragged breathing caught Rose’s attention and she turned to face him. For a brief moment a look of alarm crossed her face as she took in his appearance, but she attempted to hide it with a smile. He said nothing, but walked to the nearest chair and sat heavily. At length, Rose broke the silence.
“I’m Rose. And I’m sorry, but I don’t think Charles told me your name”
“My name?” He scratched his nose, which made small flakes of skin fall off, and seemed to give the question some thought. Finally he said; “Dak”
“Dak? Oh, that’s… unusual. It is Persian?”
“Sure. Yeah”
“We met a Persian once, didn’t we Charles?” Charles grunted in response “In London. He worked on computers or something like that. It all went over my head of course, but Paul found it fascinating”
Dak sat up slightly “Paul?”
Rose nodded and smiled “Yes, he’s our son. He has his own family now, and of course he’s at work a lot, but he still finds the time to visit us, bless him” Dak looked over to Charles, who sadly shook his head. There followed a pause that only Rose seemed not to notice.
“Go out much do ya?” Dak asked suddenly. Charles shot him a warning look, and he returned it with another shark-like grin.
“Oh, yes” Rose replied enthusiastically “Not as much recently, because of the weather, but a fortnight ago we went to see Macbeth”
“Hamlet” Charles corrected tonelessly, still glaring at Dak.
“Are you sure? I thought it was Macbeth”
“It was Hamlet”
“Well whichever it was,” Rose said, waving a hand dismissively “it was very good. Turned out to be an all black cast, which was odd for a Shakespeare play, but they did so well you hardly noticed”
Dak’s grin grew wider, creasing his scarred and pitted face, and he gained a malicious glint in his eye.
“And this was a fortnight ago you say?” he asked, with an air of casual indifference “interesting…”
“How do you mean?” Rose inquired sweetly
“Well, it seems to me that since the world was des-”
“Rose!” Charles interrupted urgently “Perhaps you ought to go to bed?”
“I’m not tired”
“You said you were an hour ago,” he insisted “You stayed up to meet Dak”
“Did I?” She frowned to herself in genuine puzzlement “I don’t remember, but if you say so then I suppose I must have” She leant over and tapped Dak lightly on the knee, at which Charles winced “Mind’s like a sieve these days!”
She laughed, and Charles kept his eyes on her as she slowly stood, edged into a pair of faded pink slippers lying by the chair, and moved to the bedroom. She closed the door gently behind her, and as soon as she had done so Charles pulled his shotgun from around the corner and brought its aim onto Dak.
Only to find himself staring down the barrel of a pistol. He froze with fear.
“Relax,” Dak rasped “I don’t plan on usin’ it, I’m jus’ balancin’ the scales. You’ve got a gun and I’ve got a gun, now we can really talk business. First thing’s first…” he reached into his coat and Charles flinched, nearly firing. What Dak produced, however, was a small cloth bag, which he tossed casually onto the kitchenette counter. Teabags spilled from it. Charles relaxed slightly, relieved for more than one reason.
“What do you want for them?”
“Not much, not much” Dak responded, shrugging “Maybe a pair of socks. Thick ones, mind” Charles nodded, and then without knowing why, perhaps due to their scarcity, felt compelled to ask; “Where did you find them?”
Dak laughed. “I came across some family who’d horded all that kinda stuff away in a safe house, only it burned down. Tragic really. Three of ‘em, there was. Mum, dad and daughter. Pretty little thing, the daughter was” He leant forward and licked his lips “It’s why they’re so cheap for you, friend. She was my pay”
Charles felt bile rise in his throat.
“You’re sick” he spat, the gun trembling in his hands “People like you don’t deserve to live”
The shark-smile dropped, and Dak glared back with his own disgusted expression.
“You really think that, don’t you? You think you’re better than me”
“I am. I would never - I mean… I couldn’t even -” The rest of the sentence stuck in Charles’ throat. Dak rose and took a menacing step forward.
“You’re just like them in the bunkers” he growled “Holier-than-thou, self-righteous, up-your-own-arse pricks. But you know what? You ain’t better than me. You can scream and cry and shake your head all you like, stick your fingers in your ears and your head in the sand, but you’ll still take what you need from me. You know where it comes from, you know what I do. I don’t hide it, I tell you straight up what I done to get it. And you take it and pay me anyway, and think that because you feel bad about it that makes you innocent. But your hands are as dirty as mine. Only difference is, I admit it.”
“That’s… that’s just not true”
“Yeah? 26”
“What?”
“26. That’s how many people I’ve had to kill to keep you two fossils alive”
“I never asked for… I never wanted you to -”
Dak interrupted with a laugh. “Never wanted it, maybe, but never cared enough to ask. Didn’t you wonder how I always managed to find what you needed? It never crossed your mind that food for you meant none for someone else? It’s hardly Cockaygne out there” He jerked a thumb to the window. Charles was silent “That’s what I thought. You all pretend to hate what I do. Really you’re just scared. First of what’s out there, so you send me instead. Then you all realise how I do things, but you’re too scared to stop me. Scared you’d find out that if I weren’t here, you might end up becoming me yourself. So you let me kill, and rape, and steal, and content yourselves with watching from a distance, because if I were gone, you’d find out just how similar we are”
Charles’ vision blurred with shameful tears. His face burned and his insides were twisting so much it was hard for him to stand.
“I… I ought to kill you right now” he managed through gritted teeth.
“Do it,” Dak hissed “if you think I’m such a bad guy. You think you can survive long without making someone else suffer?”
“You’ll be the last person who ever dies because of me”
Dak laughed, but met Charles’ eyes and saw a steeled determination. For a moment he barely moved, but his eyes widened as Charles’ trigger-finger twitched. In a flash of movement he brought his pistol up to Charles’ head.
A shot rang out.


Rose sat up sharply in bed. There was a dull thump from the other room.
“Charles?” she shouted nervously.
Footsteps. The door handle turned. The door creaked open.
Stepping inside, pale and shaking, was Charles.
“Charles! What happened? Are you alright?” She was already out of bed and hurrying over to him. Slowly he nodded.
“What was that noise?” Rose asked, placing a hand on his arm.
“A… pipe broke” he responded at length.
“Oh dear”
“It’s ok. Get back in bed, love, I’ll sort it out”
Rose patted his shoulder and smiled, then turned and sat on the bed. As Charles was leaving the room she spoke up in a kindly tone.
“Charles, dear, now that I’m awake,” he turned in the doorway to face his wife “how about that cup of tea?”