The Power's Out
It's been 3 days since we've last had power. Each day growing colder and colder. The snow piling up outside, trapping us in this icebox that was once a home. I've long since stopped keeping track of the time, or any hope of salvation. The phones cut off not long after the electricity, and with them, any hope we had of contact with the outside world. If there is still an outside world. Is any place safe from this apocalyptic doom that has encased us? I fear that I am nothing more than a frozen corpse that has yet to learn it's place. My hands and feet, despite being wrapped up, nice and snug, have started to grow numb. My eyes glass over as I glaze out the window, hoping beyond hope that a miracle will happen, all the while knowing that it won't. This is how it ends. Neither glorious or even dignified. It's an end that I would never have wished on another soul, yet it is the one I am cursed with. I lay myself down, cross my arms over my chest, and take one last look around, letting the setting of my end solidify in my mind's eye. I'm ready to toss aside the mortal coil and be at peace in my frozen prison, yet just as my eyes close for the final time I hear the rumble of the heater. Warmth returns to this desolate wasteland, filling me with a hope that long since departed. For the first time in days I feel myself coming alive. It is only then that I realize that it has only been a handful of hours since this all started, rather than days.
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Jonathan Gutheinz writes for fun on his off time. Maybe you'll enjoy it.