| General Fiction posted April 11, 2014 |
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Short Story-Contest Entry-Last Man On Earth
Knock...knock. Knock...knock.
by michaelcahill
The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door. He had risen from the edge of his mattress and shuffled through the charred rubble scattered on the dirt and answered that door hundreds of times. He didn't bother anymore. He knew after twenty or thirty times that no one was there. He knew that the sound existed only in his head, as a reminder of visits that used to irritate him- anger him even.
Little girls in brown skirts selling sugary cookies. "Get away from my door! Don't they have a merit badge for reading?"
"No, I'm not interested in the blessed love of Jesus. Who the hell are you to assume I'm some degenerate sinner anyway? That's what you sum bitches are sayin', knockin' on my door. Yep. Hello, sinner on his way to hell, can I save you? Superior assholes?" He was red in the face for a moment, reliving the scene.
There was the knock again. Day after day, month after month. "Never anyone there. What are you knocking for anyway? I didn't want anyone knocking then and I don't want anyone knocking now, Ya hear me? No one!"
"Knock...knock".
"None of ya! I don't want no pots and pans or vacuum sweepers of Fuller brushes! I don't know nobody or want to hear from nobody! You keep on a walkin' with that satchel full of well-wishin' crap! I'd get a dog ta bite your ass if I could stand their damn yappin! Keep your knuckles draggin' on the ground and off my damn fourteen hundred dollar door!"
The doorway and parts of the plumbing were all that remained of his home above ground. That steel reinforced frame and tiger wood door had been worth the fortune it cost to install. No one would ever get through that door. Sure enough, there it stood, one of the few structures on the block still standing.
How did it happen? Well, one way or another. What does it matter? It was bound to happen. Chanticleer Roach hated mankind and never felt more comfortable then when he did in his soundproof cellar. It completely shut out the teeming mindless hubbub of mindless triviality that existed outside of it. It ended up shielding him from the end. It ended up saving him. Finally, a world that he always dreamed of.
Now, he could sit in his bedroom and not worry about being interrupted by a constant string of intrusive idiots. Everything would be perfect if not for that incessant knocking.
"Knock...knock. Knock...knock. Knock...knock. Knock...knock…"
Last Man On Earth writing prompt entry
The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door. He had risen from the edge of his mattress and shuffled through the charred rubble scattered on the dirt and answered that door hundreds of times. He didn't bother anymore. He knew after twenty or thirty times that no one was there. He knew that the sound existed only in his head, as a reminder of visits that used to irritate him- anger him even.
Little girls in brown skirts selling sugary cookies. "Get away from my door! Don't they have a merit badge for reading?"
"No, I'm not interested in the blessed love of Jesus. Who the hell are you to assume I'm some degenerate sinner anyway? That's what you sum bitches are sayin', knockin' on my door. Yep. Hello, sinner on his way to hell, can I save you? Superior assholes?" He was red in the face for a moment, reliving the scene.
There was the knock again. Day after day, month after month. "Never anyone there. What are you knocking for anyway? I didn't want anyone knocking then and I don't want anyone knocking now, Ya hear me? No one!"
"Knock...knock".
"None of ya! I don't want no pots and pans or vacuum sweepers of Fuller brushes! I don't know nobody or want to hear from nobody! You keep on a walkin' with that satchel full of well-wishin' crap! I'd get a dog ta bite your ass if I could stand their damn yappin! Keep your knuckles draggin' on the ground and off my damn fourteen hundred dollar door!"
The doorway and parts of the plumbing were all that remained of his home above ground. That steel reinforced frame and tiger wood door had been worth the fortune it cost to install. No one would ever get through that door. Sure enough, there it stood, one of the few structures on the block still standing.
How did it happen? Well, one way or another. What does it matter? It was bound to happen. Chanticleer Roach hated mankind and never felt more comfortable then when he did in his soundproof cellar. It completely shut out the teeming mindless hubbub of mindless triviality that existed outside of it. It ended up shielding him from the end. It ended up saving him. Finally, a world that he always dreamed of.
Now, he could sit in his bedroom and not worry about being interrupted by a constant string of intrusive idiots. Everything would be perfect if not for that incessant knocking.
"Knock...knock. Knock...knock. Knock...knock. Knock...knock…"
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Writing Prompt Write a story that starts like this: The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door. |
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