Storm clouds gathering as the endless line disappeared in miles of concrete jungles surrounded by crumbling buildings.
The edge of reality and civilization.
The line’s inhabitants dumbly moving forward, like lemmings on a mystery tour. Rumors of food and shelter passed up and down the line, giving some hope. Most were skeptical, having been in the line for an eternity.
The storm clouds never seemed to go away. Always looking like they were going to burst any second, causing a catastrophic flood where they would be no safe places.
No one knew if there was an end to the line.
(Author’s note: I continue to experiment with telling a story in 100 words. What do you think about this format?)