• The sky seems so open now that I’m alone. It happened a few years ago, when the world was ending. It wasn’t fire and brimstone. It didn’t pass in a big boom or a great war. No, the world ended quietly, and with more dignity than it’s survivors. In only five years, I lost everything that mattered to me: My parents, my sister, my way of life, gone in a flash as the world took its final rattling gasp. My family was taken by the greed of others, and by my own ignorance.

    Every night since, I have gazed up at that unyielding and beautiful sky, wishing desperately to see them again, knowing it was impossible. I had resolved to stay under these stars until I found a reason to stand on my own, but casting my eyes about the world around me gave me little reason. I stare at the wilted trees and scarred earth, and I move on, as every other animal before me. I pass shattered roads and broken paths, looking for signs of life beyond the poor diseased beasts that passed as pets and pests alike, finding little in return for my efforts, save what others left behind.

    For instance, some time ago I found a pistol with five bullets in the chamber. It belonged to a skeleton with little more than half a skull. That was one way to leave certainly, and many times I had considered following Mr. Skeleton’s example, only to turn away at the last moment. Perhaps the thought of ending it makes me a coward, but this life is Hell. I sit alone, freezing, hungry, and dehydrated, with only the next poor beast I kill for its meat to look forward to. Every day I feel more and more like an animal myself, and I can’t take it anymore.

    My stomach cries in pain while I lick dry lips with a dryer tongue. One way or the other, I will die soon, so why should the manner of my death matter at this point? The pistol seems now to be the only friend I have; even more so with its cool kiss against my temple. I won’t run away this time. I’m too tired to fight it anymore. Yet, as my finger tightens around the trigger, I hear a strange noise. A scream in the distance.

    “Stop! Please!” A desperate cry from a scared young man. As if it never existed, my resolve dissipated, and in a moment of final resistance, I emptied the chamber into the sky.

    The man ran faster towards me, but I’d done a terrible thing. The noise would draw the diseased for miles, and it wouldn’t be long before they were here. Still, he ran, through the weeds and up my hill to fling his arms around me.

    “It’s okay now. You aren’t alone. You’ll be okay.” His whispers were soothing, if frantic. I felt heavy and knew I couldn’t outrun what was coming.

    “Go… Run…” I pushed and urged with what little strength I had, but this stranger wouldn’t budge. “Leave..” But he wasn’t having it. Angry tears filled my eyes. Why wouldn’t he go? I could hear the beasts running even now, closing in on us. If he left, they would be distracted by me and he could get away. “Plea-”

    “No.” He stands, and I collapse onto the ground. My vision is first to go, and the last thing I hear before my senses leave me is a gun discharging.

    I hope the fool makes it.