Story of an apocolyptic loner.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
I started writing about being the only person left alive in the world. I stopped writing it after only two chapters, I don't think I liked it very much. The concept still intrigues me two years later, so I think I might try again. Also, I don't think I'll use my own name, this time, and actually create a character. Josh Scott. English descent, born and raised in a small town called Hanover. Might as well use my home town, I'm not sure I'd be any good at creating a new one.

Submitted: February 04, 2012

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Submitted: February 04, 2012

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Life is something no one seems to pay attention to, although we're all living it, whether we enjoy it or not. Imagine if everything changed, forever, and there was no going back. Would you miss what you had?

Day 1

 

There are birds chirping. I'm slowly pulling myself from a half sleep state, not sure where I am. The last thing I remember was being at Chris' house, last night, playing a game of flip cup. The point of that game is to make a team of four, fill your cups with an alcoholic beverage, and take turns chugging than flipping your cup before the other team finishes. My team lost, all 13 or so rounds.

I slowly sit up, and realise that I never even made it to bed. The couch has a perfect imprint from where I must have laid, without moving all night. I walk to the kitchen and turn the coffee machine on, rubbing my eyes, trying to remember the entire night.
As I'm standing, lost in thought, I hear a voice coming from the hallway. "Hey!" I turn around, heart flying into my mouth, flinging my hands up in a defensive gesture. "I'm not feeling well today josh, I think I'm going to take the day off." Me too, I think to myself, as my heart thuds in my chest.
"Okay Dad, you take it easy. And don't sneak up on me like that, jeeze." He slowly shambles back to his room. Wow, I think, he looks worse off than me.

As I pour myself a cup of coffee, I plan my day. Walk back into bed, turn on Netflix, and just lay, all day. So I take my coffee, and I do just that, watching all of my favorite shows and movies, and eventually pass out again.

 

Day 2

 

I'm sitting in class, taking notes, teachers rambling on, and it seems like an average day. All of a sudden, the fire alarm goes off, suddenly there's flames everywhere. People are running and screaming, knocking eachother over in a desperate scramble to be the first one outside. I get pushed, directly into some flames that were not there a second ago.
Suddenly I'm sitting up in bed, breathing heav ily, my heart knocking in my chest. My alarm clock is blaring. It's 7:02 A.M. Time to get ready for work.

Slapping my alarm clock off, I get up, shower, eat, and head out the door. It's another beautiful day outside, nice cool breeze, sun shining. I start heading towards Wal-Mart, my menial part time job. Suddenly I realise, I forgot my keys. I run back to the house, and run to grab my keys. 'Dad's usually up at this hour. I should probably see if he's doing okay.' I knock on his door, and open the door a crack. "Dad! Are you taking the day off again?" It stinks in his room, like sickness. I open the door further, "Dad, you okay?" Than I see him, half on half off the bed, puke all over the carpet, one hand on a pill bottle, the other tucked underneath him. I slam the door closed, lean against it, and collapse into a little pile on front of the door, sobbing. I try telling myself I didn't just see what I saw, but I know better. A voice keeps telling me 'he's dead,' and it keeps getting louder. Before long, it's all I can hear. I slam my fist on the ground, screaming, and than I sit there, with tears streaming down my face.

I wake up about an hour later, stand up, and peak into my fathers room. Nothing's changed, it wasn't a dream. I swallow down another burst of grief and woke into the kitchen to call the police. After dialling the number 9-1-1, I wait, it starts ringing, and keeps ringing. I slam the phone down, and try again. Still nothing. I throw the phone at the wall and it shatters into a hundred little pieces of plastic. I call my mother, and get the answering machine. I run outside, and ring the neighbours door bell, nothing. I'm alone, and my father's laying dead in his room. I run to the next house, no answer. After about an hour of ringing doorbells, I just run into someone's house, screaming "Help me! Is any body here?" I run into the hallway, open the first door I find. Bathroom. I open the next door, and a smell assaults me, just like my fathers room. An elderly couple lay holding eachother, dead. The room smells like fesces and vomit, and my head starts spinning. I sprint back outside, just in time to lose my breakfast all over some strangers lawn. Slowly, I start walking back home. At this point I realise there's no sounds, other than birds and the breeze blowing through some trees. I desperately listen for anything, anything to assure me that someone is around, someone that can help me. I scream, and there's no answer. Finally, making it back to my house, I come to one of two conclusions, either I've gone absolutely insane, or everyone in Hanover is dead. I drop to my knees, tears falling from my eyes, and I scream once more. I'm not trying to get anyone's attention this time, I'm jut screaming. Screaming my rage, confusion and sadness at the world. I scream till I'm nearly hoarse and I cannot scream anymore. Finally I walk back into my house.

 

After a few hours of desperation, I finally start to calm myself. Ideas pop into my head, like checking online, to see if I can find anyone there. It seems I'm desperate to talk to anyone, even if it's not face to face, I'm desperate to find out if there's anyone left, because deep down I suspect the entire worlds dead, and I'll be alone forever. This was close to the truth. If I had paid attention yesterday, instead of laying hungover in my bed, I'd of noticed news casts about a massive infection spreading accross the country so fast that nobody could comprehend it. No body saw it coming, and nobody was safe from it. Lock your doors, don't speak to anyone, the catch rate is 99.99%. As I read all of this online, a sense of hope appears. If I survived, chances are someone else has, too. I can't find anybody online, so I shutdown the computer. I head back to bed, it's only 11:30 A.M., but I feel so tired.


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