Flash Fiction about the end of the world and missed opportunities
“You don’t think I know that?” I said, sighing as I slouched further into the sofa. “We lost. And it’s my fault.”
My cabin had become our final refuge for Tom and me. There had been others, but they were gone now. Maybe someday, their stories will get told, but probably not. What good’s the past when there’s no future.
“There’s more of ‘em out there,” Tom said from the window. “I think this is it.”
I could hear them. Their growls, the scratching, clawing sounds they made against the cabin’s outer walls. If I parted the curtains, I know what I’d see: Thousands of those things shambling through the darkened woods, looking to stomp out humanity’s last holdovers. I choked back a sob, tried to think of happier times, before I doomed all of humanity. Before the altar, the incantation, the ritual. God, I had been so stupid.
If there’s anyone left…afterwards, anyone who might find my last missive to humanity, I’m sure you won’t believe this, but life used to be good. I took it for granted. We all did. And now we’re out of time. If humanity somehow does survive this, I hope they appreciate what they have. Life sucks, but I can tell you now, as I prepare to reap the deadly consequences of my actions, it sure as hell beats the alternative.
The windows suddenly shattered and the things poured in. Tom screamed. They had him. I was alone, but not for long. Dead humanity beckoned me. My fate was sealed.
I wish I’d done things differently.