I always thought it would all end in a bang. I
believed the aftermath would be a maelstrom
of sadness and chaos. Flames would
erupt all over, buildings would crumble and wilderness
would overtake civilization. It would
have been apocalypse incarnate.
Instead, the world is silent. Everything
stands still and the grass dares not grow. The
trees don’t shake in the wind that never comes,
the clouds loom motionless under the sky. Even
after all this time the moon does not budge.
Then there is the people, or lack thereof.
This place is devoid of all life. Dogs do not bark
and birds do not chirp. The only evidence of
their past existence is the countless memories
left behind. Colorful leashes lay on the ground,
driverless cars stay still on the roads. Dolls and
toys and phones and bags decorate the land,
streetlights blink their different colors without a
I am alone. Was this a curse? A blessing? I
don’t even care anymore. This place hits me in
waves as time goes on. At high tide, I’m scared.
The constant loneliness makes me hysteric, desperate
for something different; something new.
New movement, different skies, cars honking far
away, a voice that isn’t mine. I scream and yell,
hit store windows and kick abandoned vehicles.
At other times, the low tide hits me. I grow
numb to the silence and tired of my fruitless efforts.
I get used to the immobility. I learn to
enjoy it. Here, no one can harm me, make me
sad. In here, I can do whatever I want. In here, no
one cares if I steal from stores or eat on the roof
of a car. No one can stop me from getting popcorn
from the theatre and watching a film by
myself. It can be liberating.
I enjoy the dead sea.
How free I can be.
This world of me.
Originally Published in Bandersnatch Vol. 48 Issue 1 on September 12, 2018