I would be interested in hearing what folks have to say about my entry in the Jan/Feb challenge. It did alright (a few votes and mentions) but I'm always looking to improve. I'll get the ball rolling by acknowledging it lacks originality (post apocalyptic return to pre-industrial civilization).
The Flying Machines
When I was young, my parents would punish me if they found I had been to the derelict city. Nevertheless, I would often go. Their cause was not helped by its proximity; just beyond the last row of trees that marked the edge of our farm. It was a constant temptation. Often I would sneak away for hours, playing in its deserted streets and exploring the crumbling buildings.
Looking back, I think my mother and father were more concerned for my safety than my spiritual well being. But one day, when I was just eight or nine, they took me to see the Sayer. He was a grey old man with a face like a skull and a voice so spent you had to lean in close to hear him, at which point his foul breath became overwhelming. He terrified children and dismayed their parents in equal measure.
“Machines destroy everything, boy! Just seeing those mechanisms rotting in the city streets will lead you to the Devil. Do you know what hell is, boy?”
He proceeded to describe it for me. But still I would go to the city.
One day, when I was older and my parents even less able to control me, I took a girl from the village to see the machines, hoping she would let me kiss her. In one structure we found a dozen; cubic in shape with round windows in the sides.
“People must have sat inside them,” she said. “But they have no wheels, so how did they move?”
“Perhaps they flew,” I replied. “I’ve heard machines could do that.”
I took the sign from outside the building and it hangs in my barn to this day. LAUNDERETTE it says, whatever that means.
I never did get that kiss.