The Decline

They all thought I was crazy. Now they’re all dead.

Every person I ever knew, and probably every other person too.

I squeeze the tin opener and start turning the crank.

The hob ignites. The beans slowly heat as I stir.

They said nature was on the decline, but they couldn’t have been more wrong.

I was wrong too.

I’m not here because I saw what was coming.

I’m here because I was paranoid.

I finish the beans and rinse the tin, placing it into the storage room with all the other empty tins. Some of them I use as drinks containers, some I find other purposes for. It feels redundant, but I’m hoping that by doing so I can pay back some of the dues we as a species owe.

I head into the next room and begin to count the tins still filled with food. I do this every day. I know the numbers by heart. Yet still I count. If I carry on this way, I should have enough food for at least a year.

After that, who knows?

I’ll either head out and hope that nature has decided our debt is paid, or I’ll stay here and starve.

I still remember the day they first came.

I thought I felt a change in the political wind. I bought into the conspiracies, that a new world order was about to be enacted by a tyrannical government. Whether that would have ever been the case, I don’t know.

I no longer care.

I should have listened to the people screaming about the pain we were putting mother nature through. The pollution and constant expansion of industrialisation sucking the life blood from the planet.

They said nature was on the decline, but they couldn’t have been more wrong.

Nature was giving us one last chance to change our ways.

Yet we didn’t respect her, and now it’s too late.

I remember the first news reports.

Earthquakes that tore our cities apart, tsunamis that crumbled the shores, and hurricanes that ripped open our homes.

Then they appeared.

Huge creatures taller than any building. Ancient beings that had lay dormant deep within the oceans, waiting for nature to call upon them once again.

They were driven by a single goal, to wipe out the disease that was killing the planet.

I was lucky to escape.

I cross off the days on my calendar based on when I sleep, it says I’ve been here for the last six months. The truth is I have no real concept of how long I’ve been here. If it weren’t for the food I’d hoarded, a solar powered light, and my rain filtration system, I’d be dead too.

I wonder if that would have been better.

Am I just prolonging this pain?

If there is anyone left, I have no idea and doubt I’ll ever know.

If I carry on this way, I should have enough food for at least a year.

After that, who knows?