July 22, 2010
By Kavishg BRONZE, Newton, Massachusetts
Kavishg BRONZE, Newton, Massachusetts
2 articles 0 photos 39 comments

I wake up to the sound of huge machines at work, trying to support the old buildings that line the streets of Massachusetts. I stand, stumble to the window, and look outside. The air is dark with smoke and the river near my house is almost black. A normal day. I splash some water into my face and warily walk outside, shielding myself from the dust with my arm. I snatch the newspaper and sprint back indoors. Once inside, I brush the dust off my glasses, squish 2 spiders crawling on the paper, and read the first headline. “Another oil spill- thousands of gallons of crude oil flowing into British waters.” I sigh; this is the fifth oil spill that has happened this year. I read the next headline: “Refinery explosion in Texas.” My eyes skim the article as I recall the last refinery explosion 1 month ago, close to my apartment. Bodies strewn everywhere, multiple fires: a total disaster. Those unfortunate souls lost in that catastrophe weren’t even given a proper burial; the government didn’t have “enough money to spare.” Tearing myself from the memory, I set down the newspaper and turn on the TV. All of the channels are showing gruesome scenes from both disasters. Feeling sick, I walk to my poorly built garage and open the door of my old, musty car.
I drive down the cracked streets with my old, gas-guzzling engine breathing out smoke as it pushes the car on. I look around, taking in the activities of the city around me. I see a feeble, sick woman lying on the side of the road, gasping for breath, with no one there to help her, no one to see her through her dying throes. Beside her I glimpse two half-starved, ragged men, staring at the woman hungrily. They seem to be waiting for her to die, so they can steal all of her goods. On the other side of the street, I observe dozens of machines at work, supporting the new yet horribly -built skyscrapers filling the inner city. These machines constantly spew out methane-filled fumes that create an impenetrable smoke screen in front of the cars. As I drive blindly through the streets, I notice more signs of pollution and plague: old court houses now used for sick bays, landfills placed only yards away from the road, and trash being dumped into the Charles River. I shake my head sadly and concentrate on the road ahead.
The sight that greets me near my office is a dreadful one. Corpses are scattered everywhere on the road beside a fallen building. Evidently the machine sustaining the weight of the building had failed and the building had fallen to the ground, killing most of those inside. The inadequate workmanship of the building is now more apparent, as most of the doors have been torn out of their hinges and the walls seem to have crumpled like soft cheese. The memory burns in my mind as I detour around the blocked street.

I believe that the inherent ability of human beings to solve their own problems slowly faded in the 20th and 21st century, as more technology was invented and life became easier. That is why we did nothing to fix the dilemma of global warming, which eventually devastated us. Of course, I can’t prove anything, but that is my theory. And that is all I have in March of 2137, theories, in this desolate place where I have no hope. My meager stash of supplies is running out and most of those “supplies” have been scavenged by insects. I live in fear of thieves and keep a loaded pistol by my bed. My life is waning; I am becoming sicker and sicker from eating rotten food and drinking harmful water.
As I approach my work, which is near the beach, my car shakes and I halt the car. However, my car continues trembling and shuddering. Suddenly, I know what it is: an earthquake. After around 5 minutes, the shaking stops. “Another debacle narrowly avoided,” I think. I drive along the beach and pause to look at the ocean. I get out of the car and gaze out over the horizon, which is almost covered by smoke. I daydream about better times, when I had enough food and clean water to feed a king. Abruptly, my eyes sense a disturbance in the water, and I snap myself out of the dream. As I watch, the water rises higher, higher, higher over the beach. “This is the end,” I think. As I gape at the mountain of water, I feel a strange serenity. This calmness overwhelms me as the water falls down upon me, taking the life out of me. Taking me away from this life, this dreadful life, this unbearable life.

The author's comments:
The current issue of global warming inspired me to write this short story.

Similar Articles


This article has 1 comment.

Haddixrules said...
on Mar. 31 2011 at 4:38 pm
Very good but creepy ;) 


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!