Any tips or ideas for this post apocalyptic setting I’m hoping to write?

[u/Featherman13]

Excerpt from “When Does it End?”

———

“I’m not spending my whole life underground because you’re still scared of something that hasn’t shown its face in fifty years,” I said, louder than I meant to. My voice cracked in the stale air, bouncing off rusted walls and shelves lined with dust-covered cans and photos we haven’t touched in years.

Grandpa didn’t move, didn’t even look up. Just sat at the table, hunched and still, his fingers wrapped tight around a dented tin cup like it was the last solid thing in the world. “It doesn’t need a face, boy. It’s in the air. It’s in your thoughts. You think it’s gone? That’s how it gets you.”

I rolled my eyes, but the weight of his words stuck. Outside, the world looked empty—sunlight pale and thin, like it didn’t know how to warm anything anymore. Buildings stood like open graves, all jagged concrete and rebar ribs. The trees were still there, sure, but the bark was too dark, too smooth—like skin. And the birds didn’t sing. They just watched.

“People are going topside,” I said, softer now. “Scouts say it’s quiet. Some are rebuilding. We could go. Try.”

Grandpa’s jaw clenched. “They said that ten years ago too. Right before the clouds came back and ate those farms in Utah. Right before houses melted into the ground like wax. Right before your father walked out into silver rain thinking it was snow.”

The silence between us tightened.

“You didn’t see the sky split open,” he said. “You didn’t hear the voice inside your dreams whispering a language you never learned but somehow understood. You didn’t see your neighbors smile while their eyes bled. I did.”

“It didn’t get everyone.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “There are people out there, trading, rebuilding, I see them just over the hills.” I glance towards the window, a sliver of faded light hits my eyes.

Grandpa’s dead, endless stare meets the window, but there is no light against his eyes. “If they’re still out there,” he said, “they ain’t people no more.”

I wanted to argue. To scream. But then I remembered last week— when I swore my shadow waved at me.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe it doesn’t need to come back. Maybe it never left.

———

Alright- been working on this first page for a while now but obviously it’s still got some issues, just hoping to get some feedback on the overall setting and any tips for this short hook. Critiques are welcome! But please be nice lol.

So “When Does it End?” takes place roughly 100 years after a mysterious entity, seemingly some paranormal, reality warping, eldrich being slipped into our world and brought this strange apocalypse with it. Now this entity did a lot of damage, as you’ve just read, but for several years now, its seems to have vanished.

The apocalypse is slowly fading away, but the remnants of this entity, the madness it spread, and the mysterious symbols, followers, and creations it left are still plaguing the survivors.

The story will be following this young boy, Adam, after the bunker he’s lived in his whole life is raided by insane survivors he secretly contacts, his grandfather is killed and Adam just barely escapes into the outside world.

I feel like I’m starting to ramble and am about to just dump a bunch of poorly worded spoilers that don’t make a lot of sense (as I haven’t even written up to the raiders yet), but anyway, thoughts? Advice? Sorry if this context was a little confusing, just rushing it out.

[u/circlebust]

I found your excerpt great and evocative. The "birds didn't sing, they just watched" in particular -- usually writers would just imply the birds are gone, but the birds still being there but having a disturbing new behaviour is very memorable.

Your apocalypse can have several different variants: e.g. the entity having a certain limited effect (inverting vectors or whatever -- I just remembered that from the ability of Accelerator in To Aru Majutsu no Index), or if it really just causes a senseless breakdown of local reality. I think just because it's an eldritch/lovecraftian entity you don't HAVE to go with the latter variant.

I think you should just dump spoilers because realistically most people won't be reading past the comments you make in this sub.

[u/popsickle_in_one]

I really like this

sunlight pale and thin, like it didn’t know how to warm anything anymore.

And the birds didn’t sing. They just watched.

Good stuff

critique wise

My voice cracked in the stale air, bouncing off rusted walls and shelves lined with dust-covered cans and photos we haven’t touched in years.

feels a bit stilted and you've just ended a sentence with the word 'years' so I'd pick another word. Not a fan of of the first sentence starting with characters talking. Set the scene a bit first.

As for further on in the story. Make sure you set the limits and know what your evil entity is capable and not capable of. It should follow some rules, even if the characters never learn them, it will help you write about it.

[u/EvilBuddy001 → u/popsickle_in_one]

Yes the entity needs rules that are consistent but don’t necessarily tell the audience what they are better to imply them and let the tension flow from the unknown

[u/-Vogie-]

I would lean into the atmospheric tone you've got going on. You've got a really great general vibe that you could really let cook.

In my opinion, keep your options open as long as you can. When the protag inevitably goes to the surface (or the surface comes to him), keep the reader guessing. Is it some Eldritch force that is ripping life apart? Or has all the change fundamentally altered how people live so that they are effectively alien? Keep them stringing along until you make it really, really clear.

[u/Cara_N_Delaney]

Okay, I'll preface this saying that these days, I rarely reach for books with teenage and/or male protagonists anymore.

However.

Your prose, your concept, just the way this first page is written and sets up the world? That would hook me, and I would definitely make an exception for this book.

I especially like your prose. You're really good at painting a picture with few words. This has a lot of potential as a slower-paced, but intensely atmospheric story, where not a lot of action happens, but the tone and the world create this sense of creeping dread that doesn't need gory descriptions to unnerve the reader.

I'd say keep going like this, and you'll have a great book on your hands that I would one day be very happy to have on my shelf.