I’ve never been a fan of people. That goes for everyone, that’s why I moved. People are unpredictable.

Weathers aren’t. You have psychologists for people. Not meteorologists and forecasts the way you do for the weather cycle. Today, it’ll rain hard until maybe 10 pm.

It’s always theories as to why people do things. But I have company. I haven’t talked to anyone in years.

I think I’ll be okay without them. I’ll adapt. This is the way it’s supposed to be. Survival. You don’t have to worry about the trival things.

So you go back to argriculture. Day in and day out building. Find tools and resources. It’s primal. Going back to my proverbial roots, so to speak.

These plants depend on me as much as I depend on them. They need me. And that’s enough for me. Maybe I just like the feeling that something needs to depend on me. Can’t live without me.

Maybe it’s for the better that I left everything behind. I don’t like maintaing relationships. Day in and day out. How are you? I’m fine. What about you? Boring.

Well, maybe there was some use to it. But I’m never going to know now. And I don’t bother in trying.

I’m the woman inside the hourglass Shoveling sand down the drain No one notices me inside Laboring, slaving away

It gets warm within these walls Giant fingers tap the glass Claustrophobia surrounds me As my heart races too fast

Every grain is meticulous Each a millionth of a second They slip from my grasp in turn To the funnel they are beckoned

My captivity’s controller Much crueler than he seems The walls in which he traps me Built of crumbling self-esteem

Mountains split to boulders Springing forms of falling rocks Rocks deteriorate to dust Sand is left to carve my lock

Melted down into a mold As red-hot molten as they come Shaped into a coveted figure A cage disguised as fashion

Two shoulders and two hips With waist close to invisible Force the shape for beauty Scorching pain of branding crucibles

There it sits just for looking As pretty sand fades with age Until it hits rock bottom Flipped for the next decade

Sand. Two thousand four hundred and seventy eight cycles. That was the last time rain graced the dunes of Cephtalium. Sand. It was a sudden deluge, a violent torrent that took the lives of a few hundred inhabitants of our underground city before the engineers were able to seal off the upper level. There was little mourning for the deceased since the upper level belonged to the poor, criminal, and diseased, my home. Sand. A quiet resolve emanates from a small candle lit memorial carved into the rock near the entance of our city. I crouch to look at it as the sand blows around my feet and the sun slowly creeps across the rough stone floor.

Hi, I am gonna introduce to a life similar to mine. __ _A small kid named Alen had a different thought of ideal from his childhood he always thought of being alone and keeping an identity to himself and enjoying a lot. But it was a hard dream to achieve but he never gave up but soon he loved a girl. He loved her so much that he would almost forget his dream. Now he thought in a different he thought that why can’t he achieve the love of her and his dream. He can, no one can stop him from doing that. _ __ ( From Here On It Is Not My Life )

But, In just a moment he lost everything he had. He lost the trust of his parents, he lost the trust of his love , He lost himself and the dream shattered. Then after some years he just wated to be alone, He went out to a desert which was so far from his place. He just can’t help but go away from everything he has. He left his soul with his love, Now he can’t do nothing but try to survive in the harsh climate of the desert. The only thing he has now is a Dog named Alis with him, It never left him alone. He didn’t know how many days he can survive for and the dog with him too thinks the same. If you really want to experience life try to survive alone don’t be dependent.

I wish my life won’t be like this. But, This is the way to learn about life. Listen to the song Luminary while reading the story. Have A Feel In Every Thing You Do.

I didn’t know what to think about this place. It was lonely and dreadful, kind of like how I felt right now. But so was home. This desert had kept me safe for more years than I have fingers for. I will forever be thankful for her safety. But this abandoned place had a different feeling. It was a feeling of uncertainty. And that wasn’t a feeling I wanted to feel. So as quickly and as quiet as I had come, I slunk back into the cold night, in the safety of the desert’s grasp.

Cast away Continues to stay Love solitude Good attitude

desolate forest thick or thin breeze winds through then scampers away whispering secrets and then gusting some to take

thick fog hanging dampening logs trickling from leftover rain caught on thick leaves like spoons

i sit in the middle let nature dance around me as if i am a part of it all the beautiful flow

this is where i’m safe where i feel alive energy moving like a powerful waterfall or a quiet stream fueling me this is where i go.

I was left on this planet fifty years ago, had no one to talk to but a small robot I made myself, one who can’t talk back. I always thought I wanted somebody to talk to, until the ship arrived. Now I want nothing more than to be left alone. I’m a second class citizen in my own home.

To anyone left,

Things would be so much better, if humanity had just listened to the warnings. If we had, then I wouldn’t be alone; I wouldn’t be writing in a journal no one else is going to read.

I wouldn’t be the last person on this god forsaken rock, the blistering heat would not scorch my skin and cause boils; I would not have had to watch the sandstorms take out the last of my food reserves.

If humanity had listened to the warnings, I would not be writing my dying words.

Two thousand six hundred and ninety-five days, that is how long I have survived since the world came to an end.

I am so fucking tired now.

The blisters on my skin are painful, I’m pretty sure they’re infected but I’m no doctor.

There are no doctors, or anyone else for that matter.

They gave us a warning decades ago, telling us what would happen if humanity didn’t stop their ways. We didn’t listen and this is what has happened.

I’m no saint, I didn’t listen either; I tried to recycle, be conscious about the importance of the environment. Let’s be honest, I did the bare bones minimum. As did everyone fucking else.

They came back, wiped out humanity, killed anyone they could to save this planet. I guess they assumed we were the parasites. A part of me thinks they were right.

No one knew what they were, some kind of extraterrestrial being maybe. Either way, I still have yet to decide if they are the dicks or if we deserved all that has come to us.

During the day, the sun is unbearable and the sands are hot enough to melt my shoes; rivers have boiled and dried up, and it is damn near impossible to grow anything. The small advantage I did have, taken away in a matter of minutes.

Daytime isn’t all that bad, night is the worst; so fucking worse. If the cold doesn’t kill, they do. They come out then, searching, as if knowing actually how many were here and how many are left to get rid of.

I can’t run anymore, even if I wanted to, I can’t. I was out for too long today, no matter how much I covered my skin, the sun is too strong. My entire back is covered in blisters, it’s too painful for me to write this let alone fucking run.

The sun is starting to set and I can hear them in the distance, waiting on the edge of the shadows. I might allow them to find me; tear me apart, eat me, or whatever the hell those things do.

God, I wish we would have listened to their warnings. None of this would being happening.

I’m getting very tired, the has sun fallen past the horizon; those things are taunting me. Tormenting me.

If anyone reads this, I can only hope what we done can be reversed. If you hear the warnings, even if you think they are crazy, fucking listen!

Undo what we did, if there are no others and I am the last; then on behave of humanity, we are sorry, we should have listened.

                                      -Mike T.

Capt. Teals log to main hub-15th of January year: 2025 time: 1400

My team entered Mar’s atmosphere, in hopes to recover a lost satellite that was knocked off our space craft during the last brush with an astroid storm. We landed but an approaching storm indicated it would be unsafe to continue. Stayed indoor until tomorrow.

Capt. Teals log to main hub-16th of January year:2025 time:1500

My team of four, Lt. Gaum, pvt. Parker, Joul, and Marsh came back shaken; babbling about how they saw something. A creature with stick-like arms and legs, nearly chased them back to the ship. They also found what looked to be a settlement, but no man has ever inhabited this plant; it’s not possible. They’ve found the attached letter among the sands, I would like to know the meaning of this.

Capt. Teals log to main hub-17th of January year:2025 time: 0001

They took Joul, we all heard his screams. Something is out there, clawing and requesting entry; we can’t leave, they punctured our fuel tanks during the night. Their intelligent. We’re stranded and unable to defend. They now that. God, they are trying to pull the doors off. We are going to die, tell our families we love them.

Welcome to Destiny, where only the fittest survive. Population: 1

The hand carved sign on the outskirts of town was the first indication that others had survived in the post apocalyptic world that had become the new reality. After trudging across the deserted wasteland for days, I had begun to believe no one else survived. It felt like the world’s population had been eliminated.

Sand stretched out towards the horizon in every direction with a few stone hovels placed sporadically across the landscape. The homes served as a reminder that others once resided in the now abandoned area. Maybe they were the smart ones who knew something about the inhospitable region and vacated to search for a better life elsewhere. Maybe they weren’t fit enough to survive and died just trying to live.

Whatever generational knowledge existed prior to my arrival was lost, aside from the hieroglyphics drawn inside one of the stone structures. There were stick figures with four legged companions, and a horned animal that might have been a goat. Translation was impossible so I couldn’t be certain whether the drawings told a story or if they were incomprehensible doodles of a mind devoid of sanity.

Aside from the havoc to my sinuses, the arid desert air was a welcome change from the acrid fumes and perpetually disgruntled people that once lived in the crowded, overpopulated cities. It was a lifestyle I was glad to leave behind. After technology dictated happiness, it was time to unplug and start over. The desolate environment that now existed may have been an extreme correction but at least it provided the opportunity to do things different. The reset button had been pushed. It was up to mankind to do better this time around. If, that is, anyone else survived the restart.

I searched through the surrounding buildings and inventoried the supplies. Ransacked shipping containers with second hand remnants littered each dwelling. Most of the items seemed worthless in the desert, such as gardening tools and vegetable seeds. What others considered trash, I knew to be treasure. Farming was difficult in this climate but not impossible. The items found provided a glimmer of hope.

No other signs of life were found but there also was no evidence of death. Neither animal nor human remains, or any grave markers were anywhere at the compound. Even if everyone had relocated to another area, there should have been some indication that someone died at some point in the town’s history. Instead, it appeared that every living creature had vaporized. For better or for worse, I was alone, the only citizen in a population of one.

It was as if civilization was starting anew and the challenge of building a new world was left up to me. I was Adam living far removed from Eve in my own dystopian garden.