So I wrote this short story because of hurricane Sandy. I thought what if it wiped out almost the whole population? Just a window into my brain. Don't know why I wrote it, but I guess, well why not? 

Sandy sells sea shells by the sea shore no more
  

 


The bomb dropped today and covered everything in sugar. Fake white sugar, spreading like cancer to everyone who had a taste. The only souls left breathing here were hiding in a dark cave underground. Is hell really down below or is it up above?  Everything is gone, all our time and life spent planning for our future is gone. I guess anything is possible at this point, like a clean slate after the sweep of the hurricane. Are we really the only people left? Do we start to repopulate the earth? Or should we let our race just slowly die out and let our ashes sprinkle back into the earth like stardust.
After many moonrises, I begin to feel uneasy about the community I am left with. This is not the culture I would choose to live in. But would I rather isolate myself and be alone? Is nature strong enough to fill my glass of desire with love? How do I overcome my desire to be intimate with someone? If we are going to just live out these last lives, it seems impossible to refrain from experiencing an intimate connection again with someone. Can I truly love unconditionally? Beyond the needs of my body? The conditions of the world is like drowning and no one wants to swim up for air. They're all giving up trying to make it through these waves.

I decide to leave. I need space to come to my own ideas, ideas that aren't all based around this fear. The universe has a plan for me if I survived this natural disaster. I've got work to do and I'm sure as hell not gonna waste it here sitting around worrying.

 After a long day of hiking and climbing over the mountains of mess that the hurricane placed like an obstacle course, I decide to stop and take a rest. I can feel my heart is beating hard, but something feels a little unnatural about the beat. Maybe it's because all I've been eating is canned food for the past month from our shelter. No. The beat is hitting my chest with a force that feels outside my body. I stick my hand inside my coat to feel my chest and a bird flies out. "Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this mister bird, but you may be the only animal left in this world who survived the storm." She looks at me with confusion and perches herself on my shoulder. At least I won't be alone on my travels. I name her Marina after the deep blue sea. She sings a beautiful melody in hope that another mate can hear her. We sit together and her blue lullaby puts me to sleep.

Sunshine paints over my face, and gives me enough warmth to want to wake up to this cold world, damp and wet from all the tears of loss. Marina and I snack on some crackers I brought with us from the shelter and we on our way, looking for the sign to greets us with the words "Welcome to Whoknowswhere."

"If I only had wings like yours Marina, it would make this trip a little more enjoyable." We arrive to what looks like an old jailhouse. It's covered in debris, and the strong winds from the storm have blown down the security fence. As I approach the jail cells, it's hard not to feel the energy of this place. Maybe this would be a good place for us to take shelter-a place for me to spend time in a blank room, voluntarily lock myself up, and forgive myself for all the bad things I've done in my life. But who in my life is still alive to hold it against me? I wish there was someone still in my life who was alive, even if our relationship was spent in anger. I dance the night away in my cell, Marina and I both singing a seance to our loved ones to come visit us.

It's dark now, and my mind keeps playing tricks on me. I keep hearing whispers down the hallways. maybe it's the ghosts of the inmates, admitting the truths of what they did in hope that it will set them free to the after world. "Set yourself free!!!!!!!!" I yell out at the top of my lungs, as my voice echoes against the walls. 

Wait, someone is here. Marina hugs close to me and feels it's presence too. The world hasn't had power since the storm hit and even the moon isn't bright enough to light up this haunted place. "Who's there? Don't be a coward and show yourself." It's a woman, shaking, scared, and underfed. I wouldn't call it a miracle that she's still alive, as that kind of faith in me has died out now, but I am surprised that she could survive this long without food and water. As a man, my innate nature started to come through to offer her help, but I withdraw considering she's wearing a inmate jumpsuit.

From a distance I ask "Are you alright?" The look of disappointment on her face was worse than the look on my mother's the day I got sent home from school for punching my best friend in the face.
"Am I really supposed to answer that question with 'I'm okay?' She said, using the last bit of energy she had to winkle her angry brow at me. She collapses. I run over to her, and pick her up, and lay her down on a cot. I place my hand on her forehead, and her body's burning. I try taking off the top of her inmate jumpsuit to cool her down. With her passed out, it gives me time to think how a woman with such long blonde hair and healthy, innocent looking skin could have done something bad enough to get locked up in here. Curiosity killed that cat, so I better keep my jowls shut.

She starts to wake up again mumbling, "I.......I... don't know." "Shh shhhh it's okay. Calm down and start eating this." I say as I hand her the some of the last supply of our crackers. She gobbles it down and gathers enough courage to say" Ha, figures. I'm left alone one minute with a man, unconscious, and he already found a way to get me undressed. Who are you anyway?"

"Hey, you listen here lady, I ain't no creep. You hit the ground faster than a ton of bricks, body on fire, and I was just trying help you cool down. Stop wasting your energy on these gender games and realize I'm just trying to help ya." I said with an undertone of shock. "Plus if anyone's gonna be asking questions, don't you think it should be the visitor of the jailhouse?"

As hungry as she was, she stopped chewing, and went silent. There was just enough stillness in that moment between us to realize we had no business in wasting time on silly gender issues. Night was coming on and I knew we wouldn't survive here much longer and that we'd have to head back to the bomb shelter for more food and clean water.

Marina wakes us up in the morning, squawking like a child having a tantrum, and parading around in front of us like we're her divorced parents, in hopes that this act might make us work together as team. To please the child, I tell the woman there's a bomb shelter just a few miles from here, and that if she wanted to make it out alive, she had better consider coming with me.

"I'd be happy to go somewhere else if it means there's a chance there might be other people alive besides you." She says. And that's the first time I saw her smile. It was cute in its own way. Her lips were bright like rose quartz and her teeth hung like little crooked crystals inside her small cave mouth. "You know if you show those pearly whites more often, the sun might just bleach 'em for ya." I said with a smile in return. 

"I'm Bianca." She said sticking out her hand in an act of truce. "Nice to meet you Bianca, I'm Lou." I said as my large paw for a hand shook and swallowed hers. As we started to leave the jailhouse, I noticed Bianca kept looking back, like she had left something or someone behind.

I worried about continuing back to the shelter with an ex convict. She walked behind me, proving we still hadn't built much trust between each other yet-enough at least to walk side by side. Her walk was pretty straight and narrow too, not a single sway came from her hips. She didn't have anytime to waste in the journey to get to the camp sight. I didn't blame her, the hurricane threw everything around, and mother nature looked so unorganized that even the laziest person would want to start to clean it up.   

To be continued...