The diary of the last person on planet Earth, after being alone for 3 years, leading up to his/her final notes

I’m alone now. I haven’t kept a journal since I was a boy. Work and life and war and death have taken too much of my time, but now it’s just me and the pages of whatever I can find to write on. Some people’d find a dog, but not me.

Today was the second Summer. First you realise how pointless minutes are, then hours of the day, only sunlight matters. Then before you know it days and weeks are irrelevant; journeys become a case of how many sleeps between landmarks. And now I realise years are just intervals between the Summer, when it’s exhausting even carrying my pack, and Winter where the ice makes sleeping a dangerous proposition.

I have to head South. The Snow has come too soon. I can’t even see the sky anymore the ash is so thick, it blocks out the stars and dims the Sun until it’s just a dim orb. I found it funny how fragile our world is. Was. GPS stopped working after a week. A monumental human achievement, the ability to know wherever you are on the planet, dead before the battery on my satnav. Now I just keep the sun on my left.

My leg hurts. I cut it in the Spring, on a can of beans of all things, and now the purple veins are climbing above my knee. I should have cut it off. Could I have cut it off? I haven’t seen another person for a long time now. Maybe I’m the last? I don’t care. I just want to reach the South.

I’m tired. My camp in the woods has a beautiful view of the stars. The ash is falling, thick black rain that dirties the ground and everything on it but opens up the heavens bit by bit each time. I like to lie against the bowl of the trees and watch the satellites fall back to earth.

Maybe I am the last man. But tomorrow there will be none.

Prompt originally posted by SDCorp on reddit and received 1 upvotes.

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