A short story I sudmitted in to Tablo Publishing Flash Fiction competition today.
Many days had lulled by since the mysterious destruction of the frequencies. All connections to the outside world have ceased. One by one, all utility poles malfunctioned and perished. As a consequence, electronic devices fizzled out, and the only remaining signs of life were the drone of the white noise. The pulsating vision of the grayscale vibrations, hissing.
It began with the loss of the radio stations, and the repetition of a word. It was Latin I think; a disembodied voice lethargically echoed it like an old vinyl record. Nihil…nihil…nihil. I had to look it up in one of the few resources I had. According to countless translations, it meant nothing. Not long after that, just about everything of modern civilization went copout. The voice stopped upon this new development, like it was some sort of…prophecy of future events, a countdown.
Come to think of it, it was spoken in…
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