March 29, 2021
It’s been almost 15 months since the coronavirus plague ravaged the planet, killing more than seven billion souls, or 90% of humanity. Everyone I knew last year at this time — everyone most of us knew — succumbed to the virus. It’s been several months now since I last saw another human being, and she was almost dead. The animals have pretty much taken over the planet, running around, foraging, even feasting on the remains of human bodies. They must be immune. I must be immune, since I’m still alive.
I remember when this whole thing started and people treated it like it was the flu. Politicians and leaders were downplaying the virus, saying that it was the media that was blowing it out of proportion, telling us that the government had it under control and that it would miraculously disappear.
The religious nuts called it God’s curse on humanity’s sinful ways. But they’re all gone now too. God didn’t save the pious and now God is dead. Humanity is all but dead.
And soon I’ll be dead, too. I can’t go out anymore without risking being attacked by the coyotes, wild dogs, and wolves. There is little to no food left, no electricity, no heat. I’m not sure what good my immunity is doing if I starve or freeze to death or am devoured by hungry wild animals.
Well, Dear Diary, this may Very well be my last entry. Despite the danger, I’m going to venture out of the sanctuary of my home to replenish my supply of food and goods. If I’m successful, I’ll write again tonight. If not, well, at this point, does it really matter?
Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt. The challenge is to write a diary/journal entry.