Hannah Billings, Human_Pushover_Like Broken Glass_The Last Two People on Earth
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Hannah Billings, Human
Hannah Billings, the last woman on earth, thought she was crazy when she heard banging and scraping coming from her pantry. There’s no way someone is rooting through my stuff. There’s no people around here for thousands of miles. She went to go double check anyway. When she nudged open the door of her storage room with her foot, she almost forgot www.onedoor.ccto bring the barrel of her gun up as well. There was a person in her food storage. A tall male, from what she could tell from the back, with sandy hair, similar to her own, who was busily stuffing several sacks full of her food. He turned slightly to...
Pushover
Family is undoubtedly the most cursed gift known to mankind. You believe this because you've constantly reminded yourself of it. Since you were a wee little child of nine, you came to believe that while the word was highly praised and revered in your society, it meant nothing but the most foolish and detrimental of bonds.You are sitting by your bedside table, your open window providing a view of cherry blossom trees, your Montblanc pen poised in your left hand. Your palms are sweaty and dripping all over your journal, but that doesn't bother you in the slightest. Your chest is heaving, and hot...
Like Broken Glass
The alarm goes off, it stings, it pierces my mind, it hurts. It’s too early.The siren stops, the clock ablaze, but no, that’s only in my mind. Only in my mind. The clock has done its job today, that’s all, it’s just doing its job.So why do I feel so dreary then, why do I feel so pained? It’s because the clock’s gone back, that’s all, the times have turned. I’m weighed down by sleepiness, pulled into my pillow by desire. No, I can’t, I have to get up or else, I have to get up.But what is this? It can’t be. A dream, that’s all, it’s just a dream.The calendar’s wrong, by years and years, the edge...
The Last Two People on Earth
Monday started out like any other normal day. I slapped my hand (hard) on the snooze button a few times too many, knowing with each slap that I was pushing the envelope on the amount of time it would take me to shower, get dressed, and do my hair and makeup, yet still get to work on time. By the fourth time the alarm buzzed incessantly, I muttered, “Ok, ok, I’m getting up now.”For good or for bad...I have this habit I can’t seem to break. I personify inanimate objects as if at some point they will actually be able to hold a meaningful conversation with me. In the meantime, I revel in saying th...