Never the same
When some people wake up they groan as they notice of the hardships and tribulations of the day to follow. And some flutter their eyes open knowing that the day will be better than the one previous. But that isn’t how I wake up.
I wake up to the everlasting thought that every day I will have to fight for what is mine and survive the few hours of daylight that keep me alive. My name is Harlow Seviltien and I am the only survivor of the wreckage.
I got up my arm still wrapped in bandages. Everytime I touched something, pain shot into my body, equal to the volt of a lightning bolt. My clothes were torn and dirty, my face, scraped and bruised.
Life was no longer the teenage dream. I had lost everything. Family, friends, boyfriend, community, city, country, nation, and the whole entire human population. I was the only one left. But just because I was the only one left didn’t mean there weren’t other….creatures.
They were like whispers, invisible but still very much there. And I preferred to call them whisps. All you had to do was be awake in the dark, and they would come and find you.
I rubbed my head which was pounding from dehydration and sun stroke. I crawled out of the small cement block cluster that I called home and stared into the dusty, ash streaked sky. The dirt and debris was everywhere. You see the whisps where not the only ones that destroyed our world. I walked down the ruined sidewalk, passing multiple streets and alleys all with different countries flags on them.
It was also us. Humans fought over everything. From land to power, from nations to kingdoms...until it was all gone. They blew up everything in their own desperate act for ownership. That is why nothing will ever be the same. Because they pushed the limits. And now everyone has paid their debt. The whisps weren’t the real monsters. We were.