Waste
An interactive story by David Hudson
CONTENT WARNING: Graphic violence and some nasty language.
Special thanks to Christa Tebbs, Cynthia Sanchez, and Chance Crum for helping brainstorm the world.
The stench has been the most memorable part of the last month.
Piles and piles of rotting garbage, baking in the late July sun. Rotten fruit, ancient piles of musty wood, and an ever-present layer of slowly broiling seagull shit.
You drag your shoes over the patchy, uneven ground until one of them catches on a discarded “YIELD” sign. Your shoe tears in two places, leaving your foot unguarded from the filthy ground. You sigh and keep moving forward, your naked foot pressing against rusted metal and scattered bits of dirt.
Your stomach rumbles.
