Journal Entry: The Reality of the World My vision has dimmed, leaving me ensnared in the darkness. This dread has crept into my body on a daily basis since I've lived in this world. I feel a boiling pot of rage and fury within me, yet my mind is completely distraught. My sense of self, my purpose in life, and the legacy I aspire to leave behind have all evolved since the days when I felt secure in my identity. Despite the heat of the day and the chill of night, through the despair of loss, death, and grief and the thrill of temporary triumphs. When I'm by myself on this desolate planet, I also wonder why I'm here. If my life lacks meaning, why should I continue to exist? As long as there's more shadow than light, why continue? Despite how long I've been here, why haven't I discovered my true calling? I've been in a lot of relationships, worked a lot of jobs, and achieved a lot, but I still feel hollow on the inside. The affection I once felt for those items seems to have faded. _ _ People throughout the world have shattered my aspirations since I was a child, but I felt powerless to take action. Nobody listened to my cries for aid when I was at my lowest point. No matter how many times I begged for mercy, they would never spare me. Does love exist in people? As I've grappled with this reality, I've questioned myself. This truth has left me feeling both alone and powerless. The terrible reality is that we are born into this world alone, and we must leave it alone. With this knowledge and acceptance of this truth, I will journey through this evil planet, dreading each day of my existence until the day I die. My evil spirit, my vengeful heart, and my bewildered mind are like scabs that form around them minute by minute. This anguish is becoming too much for me to bear...

It's been a while since I've been stuck in the role of me. There is no spotlight on my face, yet the light of the sun is just as unforgiving as a disgruntled light technician. Around me, there are charred remains of a world I used to stand atop of. On my back, I carry a backpack stuffed with supplies that will only last me another week. Before the end, I used to have anything at my fingertips with just a text or a quick call. Now, I spend my days scavenging around for things that will help me survive, hoping that I’ll run into someone that won’t crave my flesh and will engage in a conversation that’ll end in a harmony of laughter.

I don’t know how much time has passed. And I think a part of me doesn’t want to. When I go back in my memories, I see my childhood best friend, Laila, singing in the passenger’s seat of my car as we ignore the paparazzi trailing us not knowing that hours later the world would end. Hours later, I’d hold her hands in mine, and try to pull her out of a mutated person’s iron-clad grasp but I’d fail. I could still hear her screams, feel my cowardice as I scrambled away, desperate not to share her fate. I still fight to live but I’m not sure what I’m even living for.

Right now, I walk cobbled streets in high heels without heels because I used them to pierce some mutated monster’s eyes. My face is bare from makeup, but dirty from sweat and stained from soot, after raiding a burnt down house streets ago. I’m still in designer clothes, dressed in the exact preferences of my long-gone stylist. The clothes are impractical and look like an experimental fashion disaster that’d end up on at least ten worst dress lists. When I catch my reflection, I don’t see the graceful flawless-looking woman who advertises skin care on posters plastered in ravished stores. Instead, I see a splintered version of her, I can’t seem to glue back together.

Interviewers used to describe me as someone who seemed to know all the answers as if I didn’t carefully rehearse them. Now, no one’s feeding me lines or giving me questions beforehand instead life’s become both unpredictable and predictable at the same time. It’s predictable because of the chronic monotony I experience. Yet, there are times I encounter a mutated creature or end up getting less supplies than I need and it’s a struggle to survive the next week. Sometimes, I pretend I’m back before facing the problems past me experienced. I’d read an old magazine at the checkout lines, chowing down on a box of cookies as I grumbled while reading an article that speculated on my love life.

Apparently, I’ve dated my bodyguard, every single one of my co-stars, including ones that have played my father, oh, and just about every guy I’ve been seen speaking to. My friendships weren’t safe from rumors either because if I wasn’t publically seen hanging with my friends in months then we’re clearly on the outs. One thing I don’t miss is society’s vast obsession with analyzing me just so they can have a valid reason to tear me apart. If I lose weight, it’s because I got work done, but if I gain it, well, it’s because I’m letting myself go. I couldn’t even be caught with food in my hand because there’ll be a bunch of altered photos and comments mocking me for gaining weight even if I always kept a steady one. The only weight I ever gained was muscle and I couldn’t gain too much of that because then I wouldn’t be attractive enough. Whether it was the media, the public, or a head studio boss, I was always reminded that my body wasn’t mine to use as I please. Everything about me, every movement, every projected thought had an audience. Now, it’s just me, walking around this deserted burnt-down scenery full of silence that’s killing me like a tea laced with poison.

I miss the sound of people. The chaotic laughter of my friends as they read out ridiculous leaked rumors about me. The sound of an adoring crowd after I gave them a performance I put my all in. Most of all, I miss the chatter ignited on sets as I passed by and I took my place and immersed myself into someone or something new. There’s no one to pay attention to me now. No crowd, no friends, no anticipating chatter as I prepare to perform. Only silence. And me. Just me.

What’s a world without an audience?

It’s not much of a world at all. Everyday, I navigate life on autopilot, waking up and going on an immediate search for food and supplies, seeking out new locations as I try to evade the mutated monster's hunger with an endless emptiness inside. I scan my surroundings, anxious to get out of my own head. To my side, I see the most beautiful sight one could see, a theater. Like all the buildings on this street, it’s burnt down but I jimmy the lock and break in. As soon as I’m in, a beam falls overhead and I jump away, falling hard on the ground.

My breath’s come out harsh but eventually go back to its usual rhythm and I pull myself up. I take careful steps further in and soon I come upon its firmly intact stage. Half the seats in the theater were melted together but the stage stood firm, anticipating a performer to utilize it and let a story unfold. I walk to the stage, hoisting myself up and throw my backpack on the ground once I’m standing on it. I look at the empty melted seats in front of me and imagine them restored.

I see a vibrant audience with anticipating looks on their eyes as they wait to see what I’ll do next.

“Welcome, to the show,” I announce with a wide smile. “I’m Winnie Day, your star.”

I hear the imaginary applause fill the room, the sound of whistling, the loud ground-shaking cheers lift me up like I’m a leaf caught in the wind. I douse my hopelessness, my doubt, and I add kindling to the fire of my dream. I’m not alone in this world. There are others out there. I know it. I know my audience awaits, searching the world for their fallen star.

TW: mentions suicide (following the prompt. Have a good read!)

Greenery covered the various skyscrapers as it took over the world. Cars were flipping upside down, buildings were abandoned, and I was isolated. 100 years ago everyone over the age of 18 disappeared from the planet without a trace. People died because of them.

It’s all their fault for leaving us like this.

No it’s not! Don’t talk to yourself like that!

My older brother’s voice echoed in my head, bouncing off the walls of my brain.

“But it is their fault. They medaled in things they shouldn’t have. They could of stayed but they didn’t!” I scream into the emptiness of the city.

You know that’s not true sis…mom and dad loved us and it’s not there fault that they left.

I hit my head in an attempt to silence his voice in my head. I run down the streets of the city, trying to feel anything. Keep on running…keep on running. And that is what I did.

I got to a bridge that stood over a river that subcomed to allege and overflowing plant life within the river. Slowly, I sat down on the railing of the bridge.

“What is the point to living anymore when I have nothing to live for?” I asked myself out loud.

Suddenly a young girl about six pulled on my shirt behind me. She was wearing a torn dress and her black hair was a mess. She had tears in her eyes as she looked up at me.

“Can Can Can you help me…?” She asked.

“What do you want?” I say angrily, my voice loud and authoritative.

“My name is Allsya…” She softly spoke as she shook. Her voice was laced with fear and showed in her being so timid. I noticed that I came off harsh and I calmed myself down.

“I’m sorry,” I give her a little smile and I kneel down to her level, “My name is Clara, what’s wrong?”

Allsya smiled slightly at me but, she still looked terrified. “Can you please help us…?” Allsya now looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“What can I do to help?” I ask her.

“Can you follow me…please,” she started to run away, and into the city.

“Hey! Wait!” I quickly follow after her.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Straight.

Left.

Allsya stopped in front of a subway entrance that had been almost completely closed off by ruble.

“Ms. Clara, can you please help us…” Allsya was now full on crying, “My friends are all trapped in there.”

I look at Allsya and then at the ruble blocking the entrance to the subway, “I can see what I can do.” I approach the ruble and I slowly start to pick up pieces and set them to the side. My muscles ache with every step but I needed to help this little girl. If I can’t save my brother than at least I can save these children! I pushed against the ruble trying to free the subway entrance. My eyes became blurred and I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I looked over my shoulder to see a misty figure standing behind me. It was a man who was taller than me only by a little. His details were blurred but I could almost make out his face. The figure began to remove the rubble from the subway entrance. I could hear faint cries from the tunnel.

With one last shove the subway entrance was opened enough for Allsya and me to slip into the subway. Allsya’s face lit up as she rushes over to her group of friends, of which we’re sitting on various benches and also on the floor. The group consisted of around 20 children that looked ages 5-8.

I smile as I look at the children. I look behind me to thank the misty figure but he disappeared. Out of no where I blinked and the world around me turned white. An empty white void streatched as far as I could see.

“Clara.”

I snap around to see my brother standing there. His dark blue eyes and messy brown hair was refreshing to see. I blink back tears as I run up to him and hug him.

“Andrew…” I muttered, almost a whisper. He pulls away from our hug and looks down at me.

“You look exactly the same as you did all those years ago,” He ruffles my brown hair playfully, “You were what, 16 when it happened?”

I look at him taking him in.

“You could of lived…you have eternal life…so why did you give that curse to me?!” My voice moved from softly to a angry. His expression softened and became more serious.

“I would of rather had you live, than have me live a life of regret, knowing that you would die in two years,” His voice was gentle and soothing. I cried into his shoulder as he comforted me.

“I missed you…”

“I know,” my brother hugged me as he faded away. I wipe my tears away. His voices echoed in the white void, “My last wish, is for you to be happy.”

I blinked away the tears and I was back in the subway. Allsya was hugging all of her friends in reunion as they all cried happy tears. Suddenly I felt something on my chest. I look down and I hold the necklace that appeared there. The necklace was silver with a black gem on it.

Andrew…

His words rang out in my head. I smile as I see Allsya being happy with her friends once again.

“I should get going now… I’m glad that you were able to reunite,” I tell Allsya and I start heading my way outside of the subway whe Allsya grabs onto my shirt once again.

“Please, stay with us. Stay with me,” Allsya looked me in the eyes, determined.

You should listen to the little princess~

I quickly turn around to see my brother standing in the middle of the sunlight as it creeped into the subway tunnels. He smiles at me and then vanishes into a mist of particles without a trace.

“I’ll stay with you Allsya,” I smile as I kneel down and I hug her. Afterwards, one by one the children piled up onto me, hoping for a hug. I smile back at all of them.

I’ll be happy…for you Andrew. I smiled brightly and giggled as all the kids jumped onto me. 100 years ago anyone over the age 18 disappeared and for 100 years if anyone reached the age of 18 they disappeared as well. My brother scarficed himself for me, and now I can repay him. Now I have a purpose. From this day on I will protect these children like how you have for me. I hold the necklace close to my heart.

I promise you.

The End

Ryan dragged his feet down the high street. He remembered when it had been a bustling hub of interconnectedness, with people from all walks of life running for the bus, sliding in and out of shops, and strolling with friends. They were no more. No more busses, no shops, and no friends.

It was still unsettling to know that he was alone. That he alone had outlived the rest. He was the last human - the last creature - alive.

A flurry of natural disasters had plagued the Earth in one vicious month. A meteor struck the centre of Asia and Africa, earthquakes carved the Americas and Oceania was flooded. Europe was spared that initial tragedy, it had been a miracle. But the natural disasters were nothing compared to the human destruction. Instead of uniting, governments turned on one another each competing for the finite resources. Wars were triggered and nuclear destruction was incurred. Ryan didn't know that he was the last organism on the planet - no one had taken a census in the recent years - but he had wandered what remained of Scotland alone for six months. Or maybe it had been a year. Perhaps it was just a day and he was losing all semblance of sanity. Regardless, Ryan was alone.

For a while he tried to keep himself occupied, found a working television and collected whatever books he could find. But what purpose did the arts serve, what meaning could remain when there was no one left to indulge or contemplate. The pages were useless, the film a waste of material. There would be no one to discuss the works, no one to have outrageous opinions, and no one to agree with him. Ryan tried to force himself to indulge for as long as possible, he had hoped that seeing and reading about all those people would provide some kind of comfort. It only made him realise how alone he was.

There were a couple positives to being the last person in the world. There were no queues and no need to pay for groceries, or to get into different facilities - those which hadn't been destroyed. The roads were also empty so Ryan could finally enjoy the city without traffic. He could also give in to curiosities he wouldn't have dared to whilst everyone was alive. Ryan had discovered a knack for breaking and entering - he wondered if he would have been a good burglar when there were people to burgle. He had even dared to occupy some of those houses - sometimes he'd pretend there was a threat of the homeowners returning to add a spice of excitement. But no matter where he moved to, it was never grand enough to keep his interest. He'd tried quaint townhouses, spacious mansions and even Edinburgh Castle for a couple of days. Regardless of where he went, one fact followed: he was alone.

That was the killer. The loneliness. No friends, no family, no lovers and no strangers. He wandered Edinburgh streets and found no one. And it wasn't just Edinburgh; Ryan took a two month trip going as far as his car would go searching for anyone - but from Caithness to Cornwall there was nothing. So Ryan returned home. And why not? There was no access to the mainland, and even if there was, it was too dangerous given the fallout of the wars.

Ryan had never thought of himself as a particularly popular individual. He had a small friend group and occasionally had a girlfriend, but no one else. His parents had died before the apocalyptic year. But he supposed, at that moment, that he was the most popular and lonely man on Earth.

He visited all the people he had known's houses first, hoping that somehow they had made it through. But all he was met with was desolation, photographs, and memories. The cruel thing was that in exploring where they each lived he felt like he'd grown closer to each of them than he had been when they were all alive - he even found out a few secrets. But what were secrets worth when there was no one to keep them from.

Each day was a struggle. It was a struggle to wake up, a struggle to choose to eat, and a struggle to move. Ryan had contemplated the obvious solution - to meet the eternal darkness by his own hand. It would be quicker than slowly dying whilst walking amongst the graveyard of Earth. And if an afterlife did exist he would be reunited with all that had been lost. But no matter how lonely it was, Ryan couldn't. He'd prepared for it multiple times: climbed to great heights and raided pharmacists - but each time he was stopped. No matter how low he felt, he never made the final choice.

It was a perplexing choice that even Ryan couldn't wrap his head around. The greatest fear of cutting ones life short was the pain it would cause those left behind, and the fear that you would miss something great, something that would pull you out of the hole you were buried in. But those were no longer factors. There was a slim possibility that others had survived, but Ryan knew they weren't in Edinburgh - he'd set off flares at the castle and posted signs around the city for everyone to convene in one location; no one appeared.

But, despite the pure isolation Ryan could never. Perhaps it was an innate instinct, a human drive to fear death. A survival instinct which had been taken to the extreme. Ryan had gone over his options thousands of times, and almost every time he came to the same conclusion that his best chance at happiness was to reunite with all that were lost. Almost every time. Because for reasons which may always remain elusive - Ryan fought to survive. He survived wars unlike any that had ever been seen, he survived Mother Nature at her darkest. Maybe he survived for a reason.

Or maybe there was no reason. Maybe life never held one to begin with. You live, you die. But Ryan hoped for more. He hoped when hope was meaningless.

And so, he dragged his feet down Princes Street. Alive.

Ever since The Cure, Originals have been avoiding us Transforms like the plague. It was almost like our own families thought that one wrong move and we’d start wanting to consume their brains again. Which was unfair, I didn't even remember anything from during the infection.

It almost felt like I was in an everlasting coma, the second I regained my humanity again I threw up. Go figure, after rotting for two years straight, rewinding all of that decomposition wasn't exactly pleasant. Not to mention my right arm has completely rotted off so I had to regenerate an entire limb. Incredibly draining.

The worst part of it all?

Having to live with the fact that, even if you weren't conscious while doing so, you were responsible for the deaths of maybe 100 lives? God, I hope I didn't accidentally eat any relatives because I know damn well that some zombie out there killed off all of my mother’s side.

Luckily, the government lent us some free cash so we could get some damn therapy.

The alarm clock on my bedside shrieks. My fist crashes down on the device and it breaks with a defeated sizzle.

I sigh, sinking further into the soft bedsheets. My hand massages my throbbing head.

I sit up, wincing. My fingers reach for the bandages around my torso. A dark spot stains the rough fabric and pain radiates from my stomach.

I throw the velvet covers off my body and slide carefully out of bed. I pull fresh clothes out of the mahogany wardrobe; a dark cotton shirt and navy jeans, and get dressed. The clothes don’t quite fit; I have to adjust the jeans’ waistband while the sleeves of the shirt swallow my wrists.

I stare at the room with exhausted eyes. The massive bed with velvet covers and feather-stuffed pillows clad in silk cases; the parquet floors; the crystal chandelier; the arched window and the howling wind beyond its shattered glass.

Anyone else would count their blessings, brimming with relief that they found an unlocked, abandoned apartment in the middle of the ruined city they were not able to escape. But not me. This was just temporary. I will keep moving in two days, I just need a moment of respite. But I will keep going, keep looking. For her.

I sigh.

I head for the stairs and my head spins as my vision abruptly blurs. My hand grabs the banister and I slump against the wall. Pain shoots through my body like a poisoned arrow. Clutching the railing, I limp down the stairs to the dining room.

Tripping and stumbling, I make my way towards the small wooden cabinet behind the long dining table and with aching fingers pry open its doors.

A rainbow of flourescent bottles greets me and I pull out the one nearest to me. I pop out the cork and gulp down half of its contents.

The alcohol burns my throat and fills my chest with a warm, sickly feeling, one that I have grown quite accustomed to. The claws of tension and agony gripping my body release their grasp and my mind floats away from reality into a blurred, dreamlike trance.

The apartment swims together into a kaleidoscope of muted colours, as I clamber heavily up the stairs, bottle in hand, to the roof of the building.

As soon as I reach the roof, the wind whips my hair into a whirlwind of brown. The acrid stink of faraway smoke permeates the air. I stare out across the once-great city, now reduced to smoking ruins.

Looking out at this broken land, I remember the tall skyscrapers that used to dominate the land, the beautiful parks that housed tranquility in the bustling city’s heart, the joyful people that used to live here. What happened to the owners of this apartment? Did they survive the massacre? Did they manage to get away?

Many were killed during the bombings. Those who remained fled. But not me. I stayed. I stayed for her.

She said she would come back. But then the missiles began to rain like a hellish storm. I didn’t see her after that.

I should’ve run, fast and far, like the others, but there is nothing for me outside of the city ruins, nothing that beckons me to leave. Instead, I have the most pressing reason to stay.

I take another gulp of liquor from the bottle in my hand, emptying it, and perch on the edge of the rooftop.

I look down, past my dangling legs, at the ground seventeen stories below. I wonder if that will be enough.

My eyes take a long look around the city, drinking in every last memory. From the buildings to the parks to the people, I miss it all.

But suddenly, I see a silhouette a few buildings away. My eyes widen in shock. A person. I squint at the figure. A woman, I confirm, moving awkwardly as though injured, short black hair matted and dirty and a small round face, jaw clenched in determination and-

The bottle drops from my hand, smashing on the ground far below, as a gasp tears from my throat.

Impetuously, I pull myself up, even though my wound screeches with agony, and gaze in consternation at the face I thought I would never see again.

Her name slips out of my mouth, a prayer, wisked away by the wailing wind.

“Lucy?”

The world spun as I watched my little sister, my only remaining family member, fall to the floor; surrounded by zombies. “Wake up!” A voice said, drawing me from my memories, “Lets go get moving!” I looked down at my hands, why was I even here? How did I get here? Why was I here when no one else that I loved was? Why me? I heard the captains voice up ahead, he said something but I couln’t quite make it out over the questions that enshrouded my brain. My foot landed on open air, plunging me down to the depths of the pit. “No!” A voice shouted, then I felt my back hit something sharp. It plunged through me, sprouting pain all along my stomach. I looked to see but I coundn’t move my head. My vision went fuzzy, then black; leaving me in peace and serenity. 

Cain has traced this path more times than he can count. He has a habit of circling back every now and then, looking over the place that used to be bustling with cars and people and greenery thats now reduced to dust, sand and rubble.

The path is worn, the street is empty. Maybe some buildings are housing a surviver or two to find home in. Cain’s tried that before, looking for a place to find peace in, to settle down and relax for the first time in awhile. It’s not a good idea, not if you want to stay a surviver anyway.

The smell isnt as bad as it used to be, compared to back when Cain was first met with the stench of rotting corpses of people and animals. Still, he wears a piece of cloth around his neck which is able to be pulled up over his nose. Just cause he’s gotten used to it, doesnt mean he likes it any better.

It’s what, the fifth year since the human race almost died out completely? Maybe sixth. It’s hard to keep track when each season is now relatively the same, when the days are uncomfortably longer with shorter nights. Everything’s just repetition really. The days of wandering for food, fending off the starved, the copious months, the revisiting, the wandering.. It makes him nauseous.

No one alive now can be reasoned with, not for a better future. Years of survival have taught everyone to trust no one. And in some cases, not even themselves. History, schooling, work, its all gone.

Cain hates it. Loathes it. Loathes himself for still being able to live when he doesnt even want to. Theres no purpose for him or anyone else for that matter. Theres nothing in the future worth waiting for, and theres nothing now.

He sighs, kicking a skull to the side as he continues his walk. He doesnt even have a place in mind, he’s just waiting.

He’s not sure how much longer he can take until he becomes just another pile of bones on the street.

He’d taken to the sea 2 years ago after trying to make it on land hadn’t worked. Those that survived had become ruthless. When you imagine an apocalypse you don’t think about the ocean and apparently when an apocalypse happens nobody thinks of the ocean as a refuge. Others barriers had become his haven. While he was able to escape the cruelty of those that had survived he ran right into loneliness.

It seemed that he had to choose between cruelty and loneliness there was no in between. He had spent months without seeing any remnants of civilization. However any time he saw a boat adrift or a once populated island he felt equal parts fear and excitement. Afraid he might come across a malicious individual and excited he might stop being lonely. He was starting to feel that he preferred to see someone, anyone rather than no one at all.

Those thoughts would bring back memories though. Dark memories of what he had done to survive, what he had seen others do to survive. There was a reason he had run, a reason he had shut out those memories. He didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want to be lonely. He was starting wonder if he wanted to live at all.

So many of those that survived had taken their lives. At first he was hopeful that those that survived would make something of this new world but he had quickly realized they wouldn’t. Along with that realization came the thought that he would inevitably opt out of this new world. For some reason he held onto hope, even now he was still hopeful while he considered taking his life. He knew he would let really do it.

He had been entertaining these thoughts while the sun set. Dangling his feet over the edge of the boat, the railing keeping him from slumping into the water rushing past. He looked up at the horizon and saw another boat tracking his direction.

“Am I dreaming?”

                        ***

The streets are filled with a thick smog, making it impossible to navigate. Annie covers her mouth and eyes with her tattered shirt and stretches out her arm, making her way to the nearest turn.

In the dimly lit alley, the little girl drags herself forward, each movement an exhausting battle against fatigue and dehydration. The acid stench of smoke fills her senses, mingling with her own labored breaths. She collapses against a grimy brick wall, closing her eyes for a moment against her better judgment.

When she opens her eyes, though, a hazy silhouette kneels in front of her, a familiar hand on her shoulder.

“Tom?” She asks, her voice rough from disuse. She blinks away the dust and smoke, but he’s still here. With a smile he nods, pulling her into his arms.

Annie burrows her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the smoke and sweat of her brother alike. He’s just like he was all those months ago. Maybe years.

Tears stream down her cheeks as she clings to him, her voice choked with emotion. "I miss you," she whispers, standing on the tips of her ripped shoes.

But as she holds him, a sorrowful expression clouds his face. He gently pulls away, and her eyes widen in desperation. "No," she pleads, her voice cracking, "Please, don't go." Her brother's form begins to fade, like smoke slipping through her fingers. The world around her darkens, and her cries become more desperate.

"I need you!" she screams, her voice raw with anguish, tears flowing freely now. "Please, don't leave me. Please!" Her outstretched hand grasps at the vanishing figure, her fingers trembling, but her brother continues to fade away until he's nothing more than a distant memory.

Alone once more in the shadowy alley, the little girl collapses to the ground, her heart shattered, and her sobs echoing through the emptiness. “No!”