Notes from the End of the World

A trip to the supermarket

I did not dare to leave home for some days. Everything was so quiet outside, so disturbingly quiet. Not even the clouds seemed to be moving. No chirping of birds, no barking of dogs, no blowing of the wind. It was as if the whole world had died.

But I needed more food, so I got my car and drove to the nearest supermarket.

The scenes I saw on the way gave me chills. There were corpses laying side by side in body bags. Some ravens had torn the bags and were piercing through the flesh of those poor old souls. There was no one left to collect them and give them a proper burial. They were just rotting under the sun, being eaten by rapine birds.

There were abandoned vehicles on the road, pieces of clothing, furniture. Parts of human bodies. Stains of blood. Gun shells. Burned tires. Charred bodies. A group of people was walking by the side of the road; they carried rifles and did not look at me when I drove past them.

The supermarket had been looted. I could find food though, and toilet paper. There were bodies on the aisles. One of the cashiers was lying dead over the register.

That was the last time I left home.

I looked out of my window and bid farewell to the world I once lived.