Silas looked at the burned ties and twisted rails of the bridge with weary frustration. He’d been following this route for three days now and knew, with precious little food and water left to him, he had neither the time nor the strength to find an alternate path across the deep gorge the bridge spanned.
Of late a corporal in the Army of Northern Virginia, he’d been released from the internment camp with the clothing on his back, an ancient musket, a miserly bit of provisions and a mocking command that he “head south and keep on going”.
Bereft of options, devoid of hope, he had done just that, all the while knowing he had nowhere to go and noone waiting for him to return. Now, slumping to the ground, he wept bitter tears realizing his prayers for succor had gone unheard and that he was, it seemed, every bit as forgotten and abandoned by the Almighty as he had been by his fellow man.
This story was written for the weekly Five Sentence Fiction flash fiction prompt: abandoned.