This is a continuation of the small short story One with a different voice.
I somehow survived the fire, the hell-rain that fell upon the world. The wind howled, spreading the destruction. I managed to hide when the fallout occurred; what I hid in barely held. Had it been a little longer, I would not be alive.
But once I had stepped out of my safe haven, I immediately wished I had died. When I stepped out from under my cover, I saw the pain. I still see it now, all I see is the pain that my world has suffered and will continue to suffer. For how long, I don’t know.
I look around in utter disbelief. I see no human and no creature. The sky is red and the earth is burned. I grab my head and squeeze, attempting to make any sense of what has just occurred, shutting my eyes and hoping it is simply a dream. I look around once again and the reality sinks in. I feel my hair fall; as I run my hands across my scalp, all of my hair falls off.
I walk in this wasteland, this fallout zone of nuclear toxicity. I see nothing but ruin. No human or creature. I am the last human on this desolate land.
I am the last human alive.
The Sixth Trumpet
The fair creature stood on the rock,
Gazing down upon the chaotic land,
Waiting to start the end.
Its fair hair blows in the air,
Soaking in the pain and terror,
Waiting to unleash utter hell.
It raises its bow and draws,
The blood tipped arrow prepared
To draw the blood of the innocent and corrupt.
The string is taunt and screaming
To be released and to bring death
And let rivers run the streets.
The fair creature releases the arrow
And it sails to its prey,
Blowing the sixth trumpet of apocalypse.
A working title for a working story, hopefully the response is good. I don’t know where I am going with this story but at the same time I do.
Fire burns in the sky. Thunder rumbles but it is not that of nature. Bastard lightning strikes from the clouds and splits everything it touches in two.
Buildings lay broken and construed across the barren earth. No weed or blade of grass grows; water no longer exists and sun no longer shines. Soil has become sand and broken bones have become ash. Hazardous wind blows and sweeps everything away, its hideous fingers greedily taking what remains.
Not a bird flies nor does a mouse scuttle; every animal is gone. The oceans have died with marine life inedible. Birds fell from the sky, feathers burning and screeches roaring as they fell. Land animals consumed fire and died from within, this was the fate for those that survived after the initial damage.
This hell was brought upon by the Ruler, the one from my country. The name so satanic, it was erased from history books when those things existed. I still remember the name and refuse to acknowledge it. The Ruler died at their own hand, but sadly billions joined their side.
I always knew this utterance existed, but I never thought it would ever be used. Let alone, I must bear this distinction.
“I am the last human alive.”
Feathers fall from the sky,
The clouds turn black
As the angels cry;
The heavens crack
And the Horsemen ride
Onto the scortched earth;
Humans try to hide
But the Horsemen shall unearth
All the horrors that exist in humanity.