The Last One Standing

What would it feel to be the last of the human race!

The dark liquid like substance kept hitting his leg as if it wanted him to stay with it forever. The loneliness was so prevalent that even the stinking sea seemed to crave for attention. And he was the odd man out; the living amongst the dead and the pile of junk.

The last human he had seen was a half dead woman lying in the ditches and that was months ago. Slowly he had lost count of time. It seemed to have lost its meaning. For him it just dragged on. He was merely surviving, just out of hope that someday he’ll meet another living being… he was there just for the heck of it!

He walked away, from what was once the beach, towards his new home some hundred meters away from the sea. It was a big house. It wasn’t his by any legal means, but legality did not exist any more, just like any other morality or vice. It was just another word in a dumb dictionary of a forgotten language.

He walked across the street of the dead, where the stench of rotting flesh was so much that even he, after several months of getting used to this reek, could tolerate it no more. He decided to put an end to it and decided to set the place on fire the next day.

After all it is getting cold! Could as well use a big fireplace…‘ he thought.

He decided to plunder whatever good things he could from every big house in that god forsaken lane. He started with the biggest house.

He forced open the door and was greeted by the locked up wind which blessed him with a cold stir before its flight from its prison. He started off with the hall and slowly proceeded to each and every room. There was nothing important in any of them; at least no such thing that he could use.

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Author: Rajesh Narayanan

A small speck of dust in the ever expanding ether

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