Isolation, Creative Writing

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Isolation I feel numb; except for the feathery tickle of hair on my cheek there is nothing. The last thing I remember is . . . smoke. It filled every single crack in the room that I am now hiding in, I don’t know where it came from, all I know is I was drowned in it, god knows how long. It’s frightening to think about. I try to collect myself and figure out what I do know. One, something terrible has happened and for some reason everyone disappeared. Two, I’m hungry. With no food or water down here to help me survive and no way of telling how long I’ve been stuck here for I realize I could be on the brink of starvation. Three, I have to go outside and face whatever it is out there that made everyone leave and destroyed my surroundings. Four, I know for a fact no one is out there, I know because I, unfortunately, peeked too nights ago. Curiosity consumed my mind and I just had to see what was out there. That was the only question on my mind, I needed to know. But I regret it, knowing how the world out there really is. Empty. Deserted. Burnt tress void of life, contorted animal bodies laying on the cracking earth their blood staining thick patches of dirt, horrifying. That realization of being truly alone scares me and I shiver, hard. I look around trying to see the details of the crushed room that stood strong enough to protect me. Somehow I feel grateful, yet chills cover my arms with my thoughts of what could have possibly done this. There are concrete chunks everywhere except the little corner I occupy. I look around at the destroyed room and remember I’m underground, jagged metal fingers reach down as if to scoop me up to safety that doesn’t exist. The walls of the room gray with shadows, I become more and more afraid thinking about the possibility of being on my own. What if there really isn’t anyone out there and if there is, by some miracle, why

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