I won't give up...

I'm hungry. I'm tired. I'm lost. I don't know where I am. I have been running for three days, without food, without water, without shelter. The wounds on my body are probably infected by now, but I cannot find a single soul in this horrid wasteland to help me. The wounds in my heart, I know, can never be stitched up. My eyes and my body seem to agree with each other, but my soul is against it, and I have to force my eyes open to keep my body from giving in to the exhaustion. I'm alone now and so scared; an eleven-year-old boy, running around in the wilderness, so lost and so confused, not knowing what to expect next. The pain in my legs is excruciating and I don't know how much further I can go, but I need them not to give up on me. I need to find a survivor. The blissful shade of the tree makes me feel so comfortable I want to just lie in its bosom for all of eternity, but that's just what I don't need right now, because I know. I know that I cannot be the only one left. I know I could not have been the only one to survive this. And I will not give up. I will keep going, till I die, or till I get help, because I'm a fighter, like my father was, and he taught me something once. He taught me that there is one thing that fighters don't do. They don't give up...

The Mayans, according to every learned, wretched, illiterate person, had prophesized the end of the world. Their calendar, which ended on the winter solstice of 2012, was regarded worldwide as 'Judgment Day', the 'Rapture', the end of the world. Skeptics and analysts liked to theorize that the end of this highly revered calendar was simply because a new calendar was going to start; that a new era was going to begin, not that it was going to be the end of the world as we knew it. But then every scientist, ever skeptic, is guided by his own discretion, not the final word of God.

The eve of the solstice saw chaos and upset like never before. Millions of people across the globe went into hiding, in bunkers so deep in the ground it was a miracle they existed at all, but these people had spent their whole lives preparing for that day. Some hid in the basements of their own houses, huddled between family and furniture. Hundreds of thousands of people killed themselves and their kin for fear of facing the end in the hands of their cruel God, believing that death in this way was fast and merciful, unlike what the Lord would show to the sinners, thus causing the largest mass murder and suicide since the beginning of time, and with the riots and deaths occurring every else, the two world wars put together seemed like a little child's petty accident.

But that was not all that happened that day. Satanists revolted against the coming of Christ, while believers took to the streets all over the world, praying that they may be forgiven for their sins and that God may not bring upon them such a catastrophe. All flights to Africa were overbooked that day, what by the people, who in their last grasps of sanity and desperation, had hoped that there was some truth to the movie. But they were wrong. They were all wrong. 

The day of the winter solstice of 2012 passed by like no other. There were no earthquakes that shook the earth to shattering bits; there were no floods that rained down on the people of earth, and certainly the 'Son of God' had not spoken his last words yet. No, none of these things happened. This day was the opposite of its predecessor. There were no revolts, no chaos, just the deafening silence. Billions of people, from even the darkest realms of the earth, came out and prayed, in silence, under the comforting rays of the everlasting Sun. The clustered, racing heartbeats was about the only thing that could be heard. It seemed like the oceans had stopped moving. It was so calm, so serene, almost like God had silenced His lambs. Yes, indeed it felt like the world had stopped turning.

Nothing was ever the same after that. The world had changed. Crime rates dropped till they reached a halt. All the bad had been sucked out of the people and had been buried so deep within the earth no one could ever dig them up again. There was no wrong anymore. It was a utopia. The people of earth believed that they had been given a second chance. Even the non-believers suddenly changed. They believed they had been given a chance to start over; a chance to make up for all the wrong they had done, for all the sins they had committed. They were convinced their God loved them too much to kill them. But they were wrong once again. Because now God had one thing that gave Him leverage over all His people. He had the element of surprise.

It is the year 2112 now, and I'm not sure if this is as far as it goes. The overhead sun is the only source of hope in my life now, both literally and figuratively. It seems like it has been ages since I last smiled, since I last laughed. There is not much left to life now except the hope that I may find a way through all this; that I may find a way to live, but for that, I need to find more people. I am not ready to die yet, but in all honesty, I am starting to lose hope. Before I die though, I want to write my story, so that you might know how it all went down. As I rest under the shade of this tree writing this now, I can see it happening all over again.25th June 2112. The day of the Apocalypse. Judgment Day. Armageddon, only not so far-fetched.

I can see the oceans rising up so high, pounding everything in its path, and crushing everybody in its way. The same ocean I found so much serenity at once; the same oceans that took my family. I can see the ground shaking so hard all the way to its core, cracking this earth into pitiful segments, swallowing anyone and anything that infringed its territory. And now I'm left with nothing. I’m alone now and so scared; an eleven-year-old boy, running around in the wilderness, so lost and so confused, not knowing what to expect next. The pain in my legs is excruciating and I don't know how much further I can go, but I need them not to give up on me. I need to find a survivor. The blissful shade of the tree makes me feel so comfortable I want to just lie in its bosom for all of eternity, but that's just what I don't need right now, because I know. I know that I cannot be the only one left. I know I could not have been the only one to survive this. And I will not give up. I will keep going, till I die, or till I get help, because I'm a fighter, like my father was, and he taught me something once. He taught me that there is one thing that fighters don't do. They don't give up...