It is the third month of darkness.
Bodies pile up in the empty pool, our physical tally of the time that has passed. By day we party underneath the darkened sky, the abandoned resort our own, our hedonism natural and obvious.
By night we turn on each other, an exhilarating rush to find our next offering, thrown in the deep end with all the others.
We dare not think of a time when our numbers expire, when we will all rest together in the pool of forever. Until then we must continue our process, and pray for the return of daylight.
A 100 word story based on the photo prompt from the Friday Fictioneers.
Photo (c) Dale Rogerson