For Sonya’s Three Line Tales photo prompt.
photo by Bryan Minear via Unsplash
The sun had finally risen again, and the seeds that had lain dormant over the long, long winter were bursting into green life, as the shuttle skimmed the battle-scarred surface, searching for a likely landing place.
The pilot spotted the raised hand as the craft sped past, and mentally reckoned up that the stiff must have been signalling for help for almost a hundred years, ever since the planet froze solid at the end of the Second Great War.
Miles behind, the hand clenched into a fist of anger and the Survivors stirred in the natural bunkers of the earth’s dark fissures and chasms, waiting for the first of the heartless ones to land.