just found a story i started writing last year. here's the first little bit
Theyre everywhere now. Theres no getting out of here. What I wouldnt give for some company in these last moments. A friendly face to offer a smile, no matter how nervous that smile might be. But its too late to rebuild bridges now; too late to repair damage done.
Done is undone; when we sleep.
I dont know what day it is. I lost count of days long ago. I dont suppose it makes any difference now. No ones going to miss work. No ones going to complain that their Sunday papers didnt arrive on time. For all I know theres no one left to be no one. As I sit here now, I very well may be the last man alive on this earth. But then again there could be hundreds like me; thousands even.
If there are more out there, I hope theyre in better shape than I am. Theres no more food. What water there is has developed a tepid, foul stinking, slime covering. Im reduced to eating the few remaining rotting remains of the last of the rats and cats we killed weeks ago; along with the people who helped me kill them. Its funny; I always read or heard about people resorting to cannibalism on T.V, saying what a moral dilemma they faced before making the decision. I didnt feel that. All I felt was hungry. All I felt was my life slipping away.
And what good has it done me? Sitting here alone on the edge of death anyway. If there is a God and a heaven, I gave up my place for a couple of extra weeks on this doomed earth. Though looking outside, I dont think I have much to worry about when it comes to the afterlife.
How I got here is probably the same tale that would be told by thousands across the country, probably even the world. If theres anyone left to tell it that is.
As time went on there were more and more of them appearing in the village. Not city levels but more than was comfortable. Most people had already left. I dont know where they could have gone, everywhere was the same. It just wasnt feeling safe in my house anymore. There was no one left on the street, everywhere was empty. The day I decided I would leave I went around the houses, taking as much food as I could, and anything else I thought might be useful. It was a strange pleasure breaking into all my neighbours houses and rooting around their things. It took my mind off what I had to go back to outside.
It was quite easy to push your way past them in the early days. They just shuffled about and really hadnt grasped the concept of doors yet. So long as I made sure the doors were firmly shut behind me I could go through the houses with no problems.
It took a few days to get everything I needed. I spent the nights in different houses; it was fun in a way. By the end of the third day of looting, I had filled two rather large bags. I hadnt really thought about how I would defend myself, but surviving long term was more in my mind at that point.
I knew where I wanted to go; that was never a problem. There was an old house in the woods. We used to play there when we were kids. It was a spooky place to us back then, but right now could well be the best place in the world to be. My thought was: because it looked like no one had lived there for fifty years, maybe they wouldnt bother with it. It was almost part of the woods as it was; the once pristine white walls were now green with moss and mildew and bushes growing out of the gutters. It was also not too far to go, so I could make trips back into the village if I ever needed anything.
I started out at first light as there seemed to be less of them about. It was around three or four in the afternoon when they really started gathering in numbers. No one ever did figure out why.
I only came across one or two by the time I reached the road that led to the woods, and they were both in the village. I lost them quite easily so they didnt see where I went.
To get to the woods you have to cross the bridge over the old canal. I remembered the stories my grandmother would tell me about that bridge when we took walks when I was younger. A long time ago a horse got spooked and jumped over, killing itself and its rider. It was quite a drop, maybe forty feet or so. The country estate that is walled off at the other side of the canal used to be a maternity hospital, and there were so many depressed new mothers who threw their newborn babies over that bridge that they closed the hospital down. Its a golf course now. Or was, I suppose.
As I crossed this infamous bridge and turned right down the dirt path that led to the woods, I heard a noise from behind the wall. I stopped immediately and listened, but there was only silence. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I searched for one of the many small holes in this old wall to see if I could see anything on the other side.
Before I could find one I heard a voice; I had been beaten to it.
Its ok, someone said, hes ok.
A gate behind me opened and out stepped three people. They had been staying in the house just the other side of the wall. I assured them I had been careful not to let any of them see where I went and they invited me to stay in their house. It wasnt their house of course, but it might as well have been.
Theyre everywhere now. Theres no getting out of here. What I wouldnt give for some company in these last moments. A friendly face to offer a smile, no matter how nervous that smile might be. But its too late to rebuild bridges now; too late to repair damage done.
Done is undone; when we sleep.
I dont know what day it is. I lost count of days long ago. I dont suppose it makes any difference now. No ones going to miss work. No ones going to complain that their Sunday papers didnt arrive on time. For all I know theres no one left to be no one. As I sit here now, I very well may be the last man alive on this earth. But then again there could be hundreds like me; thousands even.
If there are more out there, I hope theyre in better shape than I am. Theres no more food. What water there is has developed a tepid, foul stinking, slime covering. Im reduced to eating the few remaining rotting remains of the last of the rats and cats we killed weeks ago; along with the people who helped me kill them. Its funny; I always read or heard about people resorting to cannibalism on T.V, saying what a moral dilemma they faced before making the decision. I didnt feel that. All I felt was hungry. All I felt was my life slipping away.
And what good has it done me? Sitting here alone on the edge of death anyway. If there is a God and a heaven, I gave up my place for a couple of extra weeks on this doomed earth. Though looking outside, I dont think I have much to worry about when it comes to the afterlife.
How I got here is probably the same tale that would be told by thousands across the country, probably even the world. If theres anyone left to tell it that is.
As time went on there were more and more of them appearing in the village. Not city levels but more than was comfortable. Most people had already left. I dont know where they could have gone, everywhere was the same. It just wasnt feeling safe in my house anymore. There was no one left on the street, everywhere was empty. The day I decided I would leave I went around the houses, taking as much food as I could, and anything else I thought might be useful. It was a strange pleasure breaking into all my neighbours houses and rooting around their things. It took my mind off what I had to go back to outside.
It was quite easy to push your way past them in the early days. They just shuffled about and really hadnt grasped the concept of doors yet. So long as I made sure the doors were firmly shut behind me I could go through the houses with no problems.
It took a few days to get everything I needed. I spent the nights in different houses; it was fun in a way. By the end of the third day of looting, I had filled two rather large bags. I hadnt really thought about how I would defend myself, but surviving long term was more in my mind at that point.
I knew where I wanted to go; that was never a problem. There was an old house in the woods. We used to play there when we were kids. It was a spooky place to us back then, but right now could well be the best place in the world to be. My thought was: because it looked like no one had lived there for fifty years, maybe they wouldnt bother with it. It was almost part of the woods as it was; the once pristine white walls were now green with moss and mildew and bushes growing out of the gutters. It was also not too far to go, so I could make trips back into the village if I ever needed anything.
I started out at first light as there seemed to be less of them about. It was around three or four in the afternoon when they really started gathering in numbers. No one ever did figure out why.
I only came across one or two by the time I reached the road that led to the woods, and they were both in the village. I lost them quite easily so they didnt see where I went.
To get to the woods you have to cross the bridge over the old canal. I remembered the stories my grandmother would tell me about that bridge when we took walks when I was younger. A long time ago a horse got spooked and jumped over, killing itself and its rider. It was quite a drop, maybe forty feet or so. The country estate that is walled off at the other side of the canal used to be a maternity hospital, and there were so many depressed new mothers who threw their newborn babies over that bridge that they closed the hospital down. Its a golf course now. Or was, I suppose.
As I crossed this infamous bridge and turned right down the dirt path that led to the woods, I heard a noise from behind the wall. I stopped immediately and listened, but there was only silence. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I searched for one of the many small holes in this old wall to see if I could see anything on the other side.
Before I could find one I heard a voice; I had been beaten to it.
Its ok, someone said, hes ok.
A gate behind me opened and out stepped three people. They had been staying in the house just the other side of the wall. I assured them I had been careful not to let any of them see where I went and they invited me to stay in their house. It wasnt their house of course, but it might as well have been.