Survivalists

A few years back, I had a particularly disturbing dream in which there had been some sort of world-changing disaster. In the dream, people were walking the roads, trying to get to better places.

The neighborhood in which we lived at the time was the Cumberland Road Subdivision in Griffin, Georgia. In the dream, folks there were getting ready for this new situation.

In the dream, I found myself going to a neighbor's home and talking my way inside. Once I got inside, I killed the neighbor and casually took all his food back to my house for me and my family.

It was a cold, cruel dream, but a pretty darned cool inciting incident for a story. I've leaned on that dream a few times to write unpublished and incomplete stories about the much-anticipated event that changes the world for this generation.

I anticipate we'll see a lot of people behaving as badly as I did in my dream, though I am hoping that I am not one of them. I'd like to think that I'll be one of the cooler heads that prevails. But. Things don't always go as planned.

Like most folks, I keep thinking that I really ought to stock up on canned goods and ammo. I just haven't gotten around to it yet. The folks who have -- and who make a big deal about it -- kind of scare me.

One thing is for sure: I'd much rather write about the apocalypse than live through it. But. Just in case you and I do manage to experience it, I hope you don't mind if I drop by your place for a short visit. It should only take a few minutes