We called it the Last Homely House.
A final bastion, standing firm against the starving hordes of cities now lost to us, stolen away from the civilised. Abandoned by the peaceful, overrun by the vicious.
There were times when we had to chance our hand against the rot, to sally forth with steel and with fire to defend knowledge. Now, they have forgotten us, standing high upon the tablelands, high above the cloud-seas.
I had almost forgotten them – if only I could – but my burden is too great a responsibility.
I hold the last books.
They demand to be read.
Written for this weekend’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt (seen at the top of the story. ) Comments and criticisms welcome! Also, I think this is exactly 100 words – can’t figure out how to ask the iPad that question…