Chris Lowry
5 min readFeb 26, 2024

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the desolate landscape. A lone figure moved stealthily through the decaying remnants of what was once a bustling city. His tattered clothes clung to his emaciated frame, and a grim determination etched across his weathered face. This was Victor, a survivor in a world ravaged by an unforgiving apocalypse.

Victor clutched a burlap sack filled with potatoes close to his chest as he navigated through the ruins. The air was thick with the acrid scent of decay, and the distant echoes of distant horrors sent shivers down his spine. He needed to reach his makeshift garden before darkness fell, before the predators that roamed the night emerged from their hiding places.

His journey took him through crumbling streets, where the skeletons of skyscrapers loomed like tombstones. He knew every inch of this desolation intimately, having scoured it countless times for supplies and remnants of a time long gone. But now, his focus was on a small patch of hope nestled in the heart of the urban wasteland.

The garden was a secret oasis, hidden behind the skeletal remains of what used to be a department store. It was a place where Victor toiled tirelessly, where he coaxed life from the barren earth. The potato plants stood tall, their green leaves a stark contrast to the gray and brown hues of the surrounding decay. In this forsaken world, the promise of those leaves was all that kept him going.

Victor knelt beside the plants, his fingers caressing the soft leaves. Each leaf held a promise, a glimmer of life in a world dominated by death. He carefully planted the new potatoes in the fertile soil, whispering words of encouragement to them as if they could understand his desperate pleas. The ground beneath his fingers was cool and damp, a stark reminder of the precious resource he fought so hard to preserve.

As he worked, Victor’s mind raced with memories of the world that once was. He recalled the days when laughter echoed through the air, when the city streets were bustling with life. But those memories were now shards of a shattered past, a past that seemed more like a dream than reality. The only tangible thing left was the sack of potatoes in his hands and the unwavering determination to keep them growing.

Chris Lowry

Author at Runner writing books both fiction and non fiction, crypto investor, real estate and urban renewal.