Our World XVIII

Our World XVIII

December 3, 2012 Uncategorized 0

Four separate stories, four different lives in the wake of the perfect storm. The choices we make are building the new face of humanity. Each day we struggle to survive. No more news, no Hollywood and no political finger pointing. Now the lights are out, water stopped running, this is Our World

Kurtis O’Leary

God. I am so sorry. I have cursed you so much over these trying months. Well, I have never been a strong believer. Whatever enigmatic force brought me to this house this thank you. Thank you: far too weak an expression to describe where I am right now. I am safe, I am FULL and my son and I will be for sometime. Something told me to tred those woods, to leave that first desolate area and carry on to this development.

Still when things go this good you have they have to be explained to the human brain. Whether its God or something else, there was a force that pushed us to this very location. There is a basement that, probably because of exhaustion, I hadn’t checked out. I guess for security reasons it was a big mistake on my part. The place looked abandoned though for some time. The whole town really.

Whoever lived here before was ready for this. They were ready but must have died out there. There was a secret door in the back of the basement behind some stored Halloween decorations. I was looking for a mask for Connor when I found the door. Hidden in plain view. Food, bottled water and ammo. Even a small .22, 12 gauge and a some big rifle. I don’t know my guns well. We are living good. The poor sap that left this behind either is dead or, and I hope not, on his way home.

Gilbert Hernandez

Sparring is becoming even more beneficial now. My promoters have been pulling better competition from this growing bunch of fighters. Before I was hurting a lot of inexperienced guys looking to get a something to eat. They didn’t understand why I was sparring they just thought their job was to come in, put their hands up and take a beating. Most people these days will do that to feed the family. But now as we bring together all these folks and whittle away at the bums there is a clear group of exceptional or at least experienced fighters.

These guys are teaching me things as much as anything else. Not just about fighting though. You know, America fell hard but you can see its spirit in the men. The best men. They rise to the occasion and even if they don’t best me they give it their all. You can see the fire in their eyes. Its something uniquely American. We have to keep that fire going.

You know in some countries if your father is the meat man you go to school and be the best meat man you can be, just like dad. That is just the mindset. Some cultures are just so afraid to go out on a limb. I know I grew up in a household with a father who had huge potential but he cut grass and shaped bushes for 25 years making pennies. In my childhood I got a taste of the American spirit and now I can recognize it anywhere. Its alive and well even in our world.

Sharon Kimball

They took me to an old burnt down school. The walls were scarred from the inside. It was an elementry school and the small chairs and desks made my eyes well. To think how many of these young children died far too early. What potential could have been there? We will never know. The corridor narrowed as we head up passed the gymnasium.

The men spoke to me but i couldn’t hear them. Mostly because of the hum. There was a buz coming from down the hall and my heart thudded because deep down I knew just what it was. The gym was empty but for some clothes and sleeping bags which sured up my fears. Childrens sleeping bags.

Women and children eating. Smiling. Unbeknownst to them they were like cattle being fattened for the market. Who knows what line they are fed as they hop on that bus. Safety, food, water? Some empty promise before they are sold to the highest bidder. Anger burned inside of me. It became too much for me to contain. I would rather haved died in that school than let this go on anymore!

Terrence Howard

Apocalypse. Thats what we named him.

We were all sitting around our new living room. I had prepared some canned, diced chicken with egg noodles and rehydrated mixed vegetables. It was a great meal. Some piece of mind. We were warm, baby girl was getting healthy and most importantly we were together. There was a sudden, strange clicking coming from kitchen as we ate. My ears pricked out of habti and I put my finger up to my lips.

The kitchen was dark. Everything is dark when the sun goes away. I was calm. The clicking continued. I moved slowly and consistently into the kitchen crouching and brandishing my weapon. Looking to my left I saw an eye shine. I pointed my gun and turned my flashlight to it. It was a tiny tabby cat. Thin, starving and licking on the can of chicken I had opened. The animal wanted to run. I could see it in its eyes but it was just to hungry to leave the food. I put the  gun away and shined the flashlight to the ceiling. I walked back into the room and pulled another can of chicken from my bag. I opened it and passed it over to the cat in sort of a peace offering. Then I brought the family in to meet him.


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