2nd exercise

We are looking at genres, and how the author can play around with them. We had to write 500 words for the beginning of a story (and playing with genres) I decided to do post-apocalyptic cum fairy tale. Here it is.

Activity 1.5 (Start story (500 words) in one of the genres mentioned. Go with and/or against the grain of the genre.

Post-apocalyptic (Seafaring)
Tanda picked her way over the dusty rubble, cursing her lack of footwear. Dust choked her mouth and dried out her eyes. Where was she? There were no landmarks left. Only this desert of brickwork beneath an orange sky. And where was Pauoro? He would know what to do. Where to go.
But Pauoro was gone. How did they get separated? She could remember little. One minute they were walking along the uncannily deserted street. She remembered shivering, and tucking her arm into his. And there was a face at a window, peering at them. Then, the explosion, and nothing more.
A voice made her jump. ‘Hey. Here. Come down here,’ it whispered. There was a hole. Tanda lay down and peered in. An old woman crouched there, gnarled as wire. ‘Come down’, she urged. ‘They’re afraid of the dark. You’ll be safe here.’
‘Pauoro. I need Pauoro,’ Tanda whimpered. but she clambered down obediently. What else was there to do?
‘You’ll see Pauoro again’, the old crone consoled. ‘I was watching from the window. He’s a brave lad. He hid you beneath the rubble before they came, but they took him away. They won’t hurt him. They need young men like him. They’ll feed him and woo him and maybe even brainwash him, so it will be hard for you to win him back, but you will. I know you will.’
‘But where is he? Who are they and what do they want him for?’ Tanda cried?
‘I will tell you. But first, some history. This land that you chanced upon wasn’t always bricks and mortar. It was once the milk and honey of a promised land. Rivers and streams refreshed the meadows and children played happily while their parents worked the land. I was old even then, and watched and listened when they thought I was asleep. There were greedy men among them. Contented wives and healthy children meant nothing to them. They were restless. They wanted more. They had heard of the Gorgoids, living in metallic splendour far across the sea. They wanted the same. To sit on thrones, with lesser beings waiting on them. Six of our men set sail one night, when the moon was full. Yes, it was madness. They had no map. I tried to stop them, but they just laughed. One of them grabbed me, and said I would do as a cook, and so we went, ploughing a path across the silver sea.
I won’t tell you of the hardships we endured, of the horrors we saw. Many a time we nearly died, and I longed for the comfort of my narrow bed at home. But one day, as the sun was rising, our boat scraped rock, and we found ourselves up against an enormous cliff, studded with silver and emeralds. Some evil god had kept us safe, and guided us to this place. And now our troubles really did begin.'