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The days after

Novel By: Ghonesis

This story was inspired by the book 'The Road' by Cormac McCarthy.
I didn't plan on making this a novel when I started, but it was too long for a short story, so I kind of had to.
This was written for school, we had the assignment to write something (from an interview to a story) about one of the books we've read for English.
The setting is simple:
The world has been devastated, only she is left. All of her family has been killed, everybody she has ever known is dead. She has nothing left but herself, and is travelling southward for a reason she doesn't know. View table of contents...


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Submitted:Dec 18, 2011    Reads: 31    Comments: 3    Likes: 2   

Rain. Nothing but rain. For 3 days it had been raining, but she kept on walking.
To the South. Always to the South. It didn't matter anyway. Not to her. Not to anybody. Equipped with her casual clothes, a backpack full of food, fingerless gloves and her suffering heart she walked.
South, she whispered.
Once she reached the top of the hill, she stopped.
This is not how it used to look like.
It used to be green. It used to be blue.
But now it's all grey, she whispered.
She squatted and started to write in the sand. G. R. A. Y. It said. She stood up again, trying to remember how it used to be exactly.
7 years ago, I used to come here every day. Dreaming. Dreaming foolish dreams. I used to believe I would get married on top of this hill.
She sighed.
I used to believe love would find me.
She shook her head and started down the hill.
Dodging trees and branches, she made her way through the forest. As she was nearing the foot of the mountain, she spotted a house. She had never known there was a house there. A small wooden cottage, on the other side of the hill. It lay in ruins. Lifeless, deserted, abandoned. Like she was.
Dodging the dead family lying on the floor, a girl her age and her father, she scouted the house for food or materials. A pair of sunglasses, a tin of salmon, some dust-filled books, a pair of scissors...
A torch, finally something of use. She sighed shallowly.
Her gloves were covered in ash, as well as her boots. She closed her eyes to cough. A small cough escaped her throat, and she spotted a picture. The picture of a woman, about 40 years old, smiling at her.
This must be the mom. Poor girl...
She turned around.
I shouldn't stay much longer, she thought.
I don't want to cry for no reason. I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this. Why did I have to survive? Why is there nobody else alive? There must be other survivors. There MUST be other survivors.
I can only wish...
She buried her face in her hands and closed her eyes.
I wish at least somebody survived..., she said.
Sobbing, she stood up. Tears welling in her eyes, she coughed again.
She looked ahead. There's a river about 5 miles further. She had no idea how she was going to cross that. She only knew that she had to keep going.
South, she whispered.
Water rushing past. She cupped her hands and tried to drink some water. She shivered. She could feel the coldness of the water in her body as she swallowed it.
She searched her backpack for the 2 empty bottles she kept. Kneeling down, she filled the bottles with water and washed her face.
Uhm.. hey.
She jumped up.
Holy... You scared me!
Oh, I'm sorry.
She was looking at a boy. About 22 years old. His face was sad, and he seemed weak. He was blushing.
Do you... do you have any food? Please? I'm really hungry.
She could see he was starving. He was desparate for food. But there was something else, something about him she couldn't quite place...
I do. Let me have a look.
She searched her backpack and took out some carrots. He opened his eyes wide, and his mouth was watering. She handed the carrots over to him, and without saying anything he sat down and hastily ate the carrots. She took out an apple and started eating as well. For 2 minutes there was a silence. The boy was staring at the ground, greedily eating his carrots like a hungry pig. She was just looking at him.
Once he was done eating the carrots, he looked at her.
Don't mention it.
They stared at the river. The rain had stopped. The situation was tense. Neither thought they wanted to talk. Both of their thoughts were filled with blankness.
He stood up. She looked up at him.
I think I'll be going.
Wha... where to?
I don't know.
I see.
She sighed. She looked at the river again. He walked away.
What is it?
You didn't tell me your name.
Well, does it matter?
Does it really matter? she thought. Does the name of the last boy alive on earth matter? Does HE even matter? I'm just making a fool of myself.
She stood up and looked at the sky. Dark clouds were forming. She needed shelter; a place to sleep. She picked up her backpack and turned around. The boy was gone.
This will have to do, she sighed.
She was looking at a still intact bus stop. The rain was already pouring down and she was soaking wet. She put down her backpack and took out a towel and a small pillow. Another night in the living hell was about to start.
But when she woke up, he was there.


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