Peter woke up tired, aching, and weak. As always, a continental breakfast plate was put on his bedside table. He always tried not to eat it, but always found himself doing so. There was a certain temptation to it, that he found it actually irresistible to not eat it.
After he was done eating, he would just leave the plate there. It would vanish soon after. Not that he didn't care anymore. He'd seen so much that nothing appeals anymore. The house was clean and pristine. Like it was every day. You could make a stain, or break something but everything would be back where everything should be.
"Another day, another 24 hours of complete desolation." Peter thought as he walked out the front door.
It truly was desolation. The house Peter lived in may have looked the best, but it was the only house that still looked like a normal house. You could only see ruins of buildings, crushed roofs of houses. You couldn't even imagine what those buildings used to look like.
As Peter walked down what used to be a sidewalk, he went out searching as he always did. Searching for people. People that were alive.
He had been doing this for 2 years. But he started to believe that he was the only one here. For he was truly alone.
YOU ARE READING
To the brink of INSANITY
Narrativa generalePeter Darcy wanted to be alone. He didn't want friends, he didn't want video games, he didn't want fancy new clothes. He just wanted to be alone. When that wish seems to come true, it makes life worse than what he wanted. After 2 years of searching...
