I sat alone in a dark room. The cries of the dead, and the living dead haunted me. Whether I was awake or asleep, I could always hear them. The cries never did cease but as the days dragged on, the cries grew faint and sometimes grew louder. When I found sleep, I did not find peace. No, I only found that sleep had given bodies to the cries. They hunted me, the flesh-eaters both while I was awake and when I slept. There was a good chance that I was the last of what was formerly known as humanity. The only time I truly found solace was when I thought of the past. However, even within the past, I found pain, the pain of knowing that the past will never re-emerge.
I pondered what my life had become. I pondered what life used to be, and I pondered how it came to this. I came to the conclusion that not much had really changed. I feel the only thing that’s changed is how evil has personified itself within humanity. Now, evil has personified itself on the outside, it’s morphed how we’ve looked and it’s changed us totally. That evil has always been there, but in the form of lust. Humanity has lusted to push the boundaries, to blur the line of what separated us from God. That thought made me chuckle, such a rare occasion. What made me chuckle is the fact that while we reach for the stars, trying to break that boundary between man and God, we’re using such a means of evil. It’s just ironic how we’re using evil to try and achieve divinity. Look at where it’s gotten us, look at how it’s changed us.
I remember that first day, the beginning of the end. It was when I found this place, where I closed myself off from the world. That day chaos broke lose, and when we should have united, we broke apart. That day was also the day where I had forsaken every just thing I had ever known. It was the day I turned my back to that girl and her mother. There weren’t enough supplies to sustain the 3 of us for long, and had I accepted them, others would also come. So I closed myself off, both physically and mentally from the rest of the world. Even now, I can still make out both of their cries from the dozen others. Do I regret what I did? I used to, but that feeling has passed. I no longer feel the guilt or sorrow attached to the act, I barely feel anything any more.
I no longer have any sense of time, that aspect of life is as now as dead as the people are outside. I may have opened the door to check the sky had I not wished to cling to the last remains of what my life had become. I have grown tired, so it must be late, or early. Not that my sleep will do me any good, there is little solace for me. Maybe it’s God’s way of punishing me, or maybe I’ve already been punished. It seems that now, I’ve been given a gift. I now hear a new cry, one that’s a little different then the rest, one that sounds like it’s a little closer. Well, as close as you can get to a man that no longer cares for humanity, but nonetheless I’m happy with a tiny bit of change.