Short story, alternate future.

[Regnasam]

This seems to fit best here, it's a pretty good one.
The House
   A house sat lonely on a hill. The world around it had not changed for a very long time, nor had the scene inside it. All was peaceful, with small animals scurrying about, as the sun rose on yet another day where not much would happen. In fact, not much would ever happen, anymore. Not now, not tomorrow, not a week from now, not ever. The air around the house stunk of smoke and some unidentifiable odor, and the only small animals left to scurry about were large insects, running about doing whatever they do. Through the house, furniture was overturned, a pond of stagnant water sat in the rusty sink, and a skeleton lay on the floor, still clutching the brush that it was using to clean dishes that are still in the sink. This house sits alone on its hill, with nothing but the wind whistling through the dead charred tree branches around it making a sound. Off in the distance, a faint siren can be heard, still going off of some indiscernible power source after all these years. Outside the house, on the road that its winding entrance lane leads to, there is a scattering of burnt out vehicles, that were at one point considered "armored", but are now filled with holes, never to protect or even move ever again. Most have faint red stars that have nearly worn off completely after all these years, but some are more boxy with a tricolored 13 stripe flag with stars in the corner. There was clearly some kind of great battle here, with craters still not filled in by the years of erosion, aircraft bodies sprinkled in, with destroyed vehicles and the skeletons of the men who drove and fought with them as far as the eye can see. Amazingly, a radio in what appears to be a command vehicle, one with the tricolored flag, is still hissing and cracking out broken words. The faint phrases can barely be heard, as something like "*bZzZt, This is an emer...... from the pre...... Of America......... Several objects.......... Detected........ Payload................ Nuclear attack.............. Stand by......... *Crzzzbzt*" This message repeats over and over again, never faltering, the pauses in different places, the static getting ever so slightly worse, at a rate unnoticeable to the human ear. All around, many houses, some collapsed, some still standing, some still burned to the foundation, sit untouched. There is no presence of humanity anywhere here, or across any ocean, or on any land, except for in the skeletons that littered the earth. At last, the incessant droning of the siren ceased, and the radio could be heard to spit out a few last words: "Attack............ payload........... Nuclear......... Stand by........... From the President of the United States........" before sizzling out for all eternity, a small bright flame leaping from it as the last sound was extinguished. The house sat where it always had, alone, on the hill. It sat as it had for 17 years before, and would continue to sit for many years after. And so, the house on the hill was silent once more, perhaps this time forever.