It is late afternoon and I am at home in the basement texting my friends and making plans for Saturday. My father is at work and my mother and sister are off who knows where on another errand. Everything is as it always is, just a normal Wednesday. Or so I think when, without warning, the house begins to violently shake and I am knocked off my chair. The ceiling is bowing and before it caves in I hide under the safety of my desk, hoping I don’t get killed. Finally the ceiling gives way, exploding with rubble from the two floors above as it all comes tumbling down to its final resting place in the basement. As suddenly as the tremors started they stop and an eerie quiet settles over the ruins that was once my house. Still trapped underneath my desk I stumble and fight my way through the debris and out of the house into the wasteland that was once my backyard.

All around me I see the smoldering remains of my neighborhood. Houses blown to bits, plants reduced to nothing, the trees charred remains of what they used to be, a huge smoking crater in the middle of my street. I look around and see it’s not just my neighborhood; the entire town appears to have been destroyed by fire and craters. The craters are huge and all of them are steaming, clouding the sky, blocking out the sun, and fouling the air which now is dry and scratches at my throat when I breathe. The air smells burnt and almost sulfuric. The craters are everywhere and cover the surface like chicken pox. The fires that haven’t already died out are now small and slowly receding as there is nothing left living to fuel their flames. The dwindling colours of red and orange. I am wearing colours that stand stark against my gray environment. Though I am covered in a white-gray dust from the rubble of my house, my blue t-shirt, dark green shorts, and dark purple sneakers are the only colours that aren’t gray or black.  It is very hot and I feel as if I’m cooking in an oven. At a loss of what to do, I start checking myself. What injuries do I have and what did I take with me? I am not fatally injured; just some minor scratches on my elbows and knees from when I crawled out of the house. My clothes don’t seem too badly ripped, though now there is a small tear on the front of my shirt at the bottom of the hem, and as I check my pockets I find my phone and house keys. Looking back at the remains of my house I know that my keys no longer serve a purpose, but I put them back in my pocket anyway, as a reminder of what I used to have. My phone is still working, but it’s not like it’ll be of any use to me, but I keep it as well, though I’m not sure why.

Curious about the craters and why they are smoking so much I check out the crater in my own street. I walk over and peer over the edge. The crater itself seems to be at least twenty feet across and probably six feet deep. I don’t know what I was expecting to find in the crater, a meteorite or an alien spaceship, but I now know why it is smoking. Inside the crater is a slowly growing puddle of bubbling magma. This lava stuff is probably in the other craters as well. I have an inkling of what just happened. All the shaking that brought down my house, the black and white world, the craters of magma, and the lack of other people or species means one thing.

The apocalypse just happened.

I am probably the last person in America – hell – the last person on Earth for all I know. I missed out on the apocalypse, I almost feel disappointed. Once again I look around, trying to comprehend my new reality and I think, “Somehow I’ve landed in the Twilight Zone.” Only there was no theme music, I am not in black and white even if my surroundings have been reduced to just that, and no deep voiced narrator introducing this alternate dimension or my predicament to the viewers watching at home. “Rather than in the Twilight Zone, it’s more like reenacting one of the episodes.” Except there’s no conveniently pristine newspaper telling me exactly what happened and I don’t need glasses to see clearly.

While I feel an onslaught of emotions and trauma (I think it might be trauma, which would certainly make sense) coming at me full force, I try to delay it, for now I need to figure out how to survive. Stomach rumbling I realize I haven’t eaten yet today. Looking back at my house it is quite obvious nothing survived worth salvaging. With nothing left here I head down my street and take a left, heading to see what survived downtown and hoping the Stop & Shop grocery store in the shopping centre is still standing or at least some canned vegetables or something survived.

I stand there in awe. I knew Stop & Shop grocery store was successful, from the chains to the online delivery service, but this is ridiculous.

The Stop & Shop looks virtually untouched.

The only evidence of the apocalypse is the scorch marks, ash dust covering the building, the logo shattered on the ground, and the rest of the stores in the shopping center, obviously not so lucky. Hungry and not wanting to waste anymore time I head toward the store and through the – BOP!

I was wrong. It’s not untouched.

The doors won’t slide open.

I jump up and down on the pad willing the doors to open, but the doors stay closed. Before, automatic doors made me feel like a Jedi. Now they stand there mocking me. Remembering that the doors themselves can be pushed open in the event of an emergency I try to pry the doors apart. After I’ve gotten them an inch apart, just when I think I’ve got it, they close again. Who knew automatic doors could be so heavy? It seems like forever when I’m finally able to open the doors wide enough to get through without getting squished in-between. I tumble into the entrance and once I get up I groan. More automatic doors.

          Once I’m inside I’m surprised by how quiet it is. There are always people here and I was hoping some people had taken refuge here, but there is no one else in the store. Assuming the explosions, or geysers of magma, or whatever didn’t happen all at once, people probably rushed out and panicked after the first explosion and then all tried to get home or hide in their cars after the other explosions happened. How tragic.  Pushing the thought away and focusing on surviving, I take a purple plastic basket from the entrance and wander around the store. Inside it looks a giant had picked up the store and shook it. The aisles are on top of each other like dominos, the merchandise scattered and spilled on the floor.  Refrigerated goods had tumbled off their shelves and many containers and boxes on their shelves are melting. Jars, juices, and sodas have fallen and cracked on the floor leaving sticky puddles and the live lobsters are now free to roam. I have no idea what they’re going to do for food, but I don’t think the lobsters will live long. Then again, who knows? Maybe they’ll adapt by learning how to open canned goods with their pinchers. Or die.

 I walk up and down the store avoiding messes where I can and picking things up, canned peas, twelve pack of water bottles (which I have to carry), and some other stuff I salvage from the wreak. I’ll be coming back here often since I know where it is and since there’s no way I can carry everything. I’ll just take what I need for a meal today.

I’m by the eggs and milk, ignoring the milk (because there’s no way that’s going to last) and checking to see how many eggs are crushed when I kick something with my foot. Looking down I see a broken plastic bottle, curious to see what the brand is I pick it up. It’s a half empty flavoured ICE Water bottle. I look at what flavour it is, Peach Nectarine. I scoff. Peaches? Gross. I hate peaches, but my sister likes them, this ICE Water too. I don’t know why, she never drank it. I remember when my sister begged me to take her to Stop and Shop to buy these ICE drinks. I didn’t want to, but in the end was forced by my parents who couldn’t take her whining anymore and they didn’t see any harm in it so why not, they had mused. The drive was short from our house, not even five minutes. As we were shopping I watched and grimaced as she started taking two of each kind of ICE off the shelf and into the carriage. All the while she would tell me that all of them were hers and I wasn’t allowed a single one. That was fine by me, I didn’t want one. At the checkout I paid for all twelve ICE bottles she had picked out for herself. I remember them sitting in the fridge for months afterword. In fact there are – I mean - were still some left in the fridge when the apocalypse struck.

I can’t push back reality anymore, this empty Stop and Shop and ICE Water enough to attest to that.

I am alone in the world.

My family? Dead. My friends? Dead. Everyone else? It’s quite obvious. This town is dead. So, how tragic? Very tragic, traumatizing even. My shock can no longer protect me from my despair as the tears roll down my cheeks and the snot drops from my nose. I sit down in the middle of the store, crying hysterically and gasping for breath, getting hiccups. Great, I’m having a meltdown in Stop and Shop and no one is around to witness this ugly scene and while normally that thought would comfort me a little, it just makes me cry harder. As I’m crying I pull out my phone and check my text messages. Why? My friends won’t text me back. I don’t know if they’ll be able to make it to the movies Saturday, I never will. In a fit of desperate hope that can only come from the chaos of sorrow I send a mass text to every person in my contacts list. I press send and, miraculously, it actually goes through. It reads, “IS ANYONE OUT THERE?!?! TXT OR CALL ME PLZ!!!!!” I don’t know how long I cry as wave after wave of despair crashes into my psyche. Once I can’t seem to cry anymore, it feels like an hour or five has gone by. I lay down on the floor, setting my head next to my basket of food and stare up blankly at the ceiling.

          Getting a hold of myself, I stand up and remember my hunger. My need to survive. Still feeling depressed and wanting to stave off the canned food until there is no more fresh food to eat; I head over to the end of the store by the freezers and grab a tub of Ben & Jerry. Ice cream has always made me feel better, it is soul food, and I might as well eat some before it melts completely. As I eat the ice cream with a plastic spoon scavenged from the area, I guess where aisle two used to stand, I think about what I should do now. I have an over abundance of time and not much to fill it with. I could kill myself, a gun to the head, end it all.

There’s no purpose in this life, nothing to live for except to survive to the next day and why bother surviving when it’s obvious it’s only going to get worst. My dreams are now nothing more than that, for what is the point of pursuing them now? There’s no need for money anymore, no people around to admire me, none of the people I care about to be proud of me, no friends to support me. Nothing. Killing myself so I don’t have to live in this desolate world would be a relief, I’d be better off than the lobsters anyway. I can’t imagine starving to death and those puddles of magma that might soon become lakes. And if they soon cover the entire surface and boil the seas, do I really want to be around to die a slow and fiery death? Not particularly, but I’m not too keen on suicide either, as hopeless as my situation is.

I remember the Twilight Zone episode my reality now is. The one where an H-Bomb destroyed that bookworms’ Earth (or America, whatever). I’ve got all the time in the world…so why not spend my time reading? It’s genius! Why didn’t I think of it before? Barnes and Noble was like my home away from home (the public library either never had the books I wanted or all the copies were always checked out), a safe haven. My room and basement are no longer an option to escape to so why not Barnes & Noble? My hopes rise, until a thought nags at me. ‘What if it’s completely destroyed like everything. Books burn easily after all.’ But this is all I have left and if Stop and Shop was able to stick it out maybe Barnes & Noble had a stroke of luck too. I don’t think I’d be able to go on and plan my survival if I don’t quell my curiosity about Barnes & Noble existence nagging at me. Quickly I finish what’s left of the pint of ice cream and force my way back outside, full of renewed excitement of going once again to Barnes & Noble.

I stand there in awe. I knew Stop & Shop grocery store was successful, from the chains to the online delivery service, but this is ridiculous.

The Stop & Shop looks virtually untouched.

The only evidence of the apocalypse is the scorch marks, ash dust covering the building, the logo shattered on the ground, and the rest of the stores in the shopping center, obviously not so lucky. Hungry and not wanting to waste anymore time I head toward the store and through the – BOP!

I was wrong. It’s not untouched.

The doors won’t slide open.

I jump up and down on the pad willing the doors to open, but the doors stay closed. Before, automatic doors made me feel like a Jedi. Now they stand there mocking me. Remembering that the doors themselves can be pushed open in the event of an emergency I try to pry the doors apart. After I’ve gotten them an inch apart, just when I think I’ve got it, they close again. Who knew automatic doors could be so heavy? It seems like forever when I’m finally able to open the doors wide enough to get through without getting squished in-between. I tumble into the entrance and once I get up I groan. More automatic doors.

          Once I’m inside I’m surprised by how quiet it is. There are always people here and I was hoping some people had taken refuge here, but there is no one else in the store. Assuming the explosions, or geysers of magma, or whatever didn’t happen all at once, people probably rushed out and panicked after the first explosion and then all tried to get home or hide in their cars after the other explosions happened. How tragic.  Pushing the thought away and focusing on surviving, I take a purple plastic basket from the entrance and wander around the store. Inside it looks a giant had picked up the store and shook it. The aisles are on top of each other like dominos, the merchandise scattered and spilled on the floor.  Refrigerated goods had tumbled off their shelves and many containers and boxes on their shelves are melting. Jars, juices, and sodas have fallen and cracked on the floor leaving sticky puddles and the live lobsters are now free to roam. I have no idea what they’re going to do for food, but I don’t think the lobsters will live long. Then again, who knows? Maybe they’ll adapt by learning how to open canned goods with their pinchers. Or die.

 I walk up and down the store avoiding messes where I can and picking things up, canned peas, twelve pack of water bottles (which I have to carry), and some other stuff I salvage from the wreak. I’ll be coming back here often since I know where it is and since there’s no way I can carry everything. I’ll just take what I need for a meal today.

I’m by the eggs and milk, ignoring the milk (because there’s no way that’s going to last) and checking to see how many eggs are crushed when I kick something with my foot. Looking down I see a broken plastic bottle, curious to see what the brand is I pick it up. It’s a half empty flavoured ICE Water bottle. I look at what flavour it is, Peach Nectarine. I scoff. Peaches? Gross. I hate peaches, but my sister likes them, this ICE Water too. I don’t know why, she never drank it. I remember when my sister begged me to take her to Stop and Shop to buy these ICE drinks. I didn’t want to, but in the end was forced by my parents who couldn’t take her whining anymore and they didn’t see any harm in it so why not, they had mused. The drive was short from our house, not even five minutes. As we were shopping I watched and grimaced as she started taking two of each kind of ICE off the shelf and into the carriage. All the while she would tell me that all of them were hers and I wasn’t allowed a single one. That was fine by me, I didn’t want one. At the checkout I paid for all twelve ICE bottles she had picked out for herself. I remember them sitting in the fridge for months afterword. In fact there are – I mean - were still some left in the fridge when the apocalypse struck.

I can’t push back reality anymore, this empty Stop and Shop and ICE Water enough to attest to that.

I am alone in the world.

My family? Dead. My friends? Dead. Everyone else? It’s quite obvious. This town is dead. So, how tragic? Very tragic, traumatizing even. My shock can no longer protect me from my despair as the tears roll down my cheeks and the snot drops from my nose. I sit down in the middle of the store, crying hysterically and gasping for breath, getting hiccups. Great, I’m having a meltdown in Stop and Shop and no one is around to witness this ugly scene and while normally that thought would comfort me a little, it just makes me cry harder. As I’m crying I pull out my phone and check my text messages. Why? My friends won’t text me back. I don’t know if they’ll be able to make it to the movies Saturday, I never will. In a fit of desperate hope that can only come from the chaos of sorrow I send a mass text to every person in my contacts list. I press send and, miraculously, it actually goes through. It reads, “IS ANYONE OUT THERE?!?! TXT OR CALL ME PLZ!!!!!” I don’t know how long I cry as wave after wave of despair crashes into my psyche. Once I can’t seem to cry anymore, it feels like an hour or five has gone by. I lay down on the floor, setting my head next to my basket of food and stare up blankly at the ceiling.

          Getting a hold of myself, I stand up and remember my hunger. My need to survive. Still feeling depressed and wanting to stave off the canned food until there is no more fresh food to eat; I head over to the end of the store by the freezers and grab a tub of Ben & Jerry. Ice cream has always made me feel better, it is soul food, and I might as well eat some before it melts completely. As I eat the ice cream with a plastic spoon scavenged from the area, I guess where aisle two used to stand, I think about what I should do now. I have an over abundance of time and not much to fill it with. I could kill myself, a gun to the head, end it all.

There’s no purpose in this life, nothing to live for except to survive to the next day and why bother surviving when it’s obvious it’s only going to get worst. My dreams are now nothing more than that, for what is the point of pursuing them now? There’s no need for money anymore, no people around to admire me, none of the people I care about to be proud of me, no friends to support me. Nothing. Killing myself so I don’t have to live in this desolate world would be a relief, I’d be better off than the lobsters anyway. I can’t imagine starving to death and those puddles of magma that might soon become lakes. And if they soon cover the entire surface and boil the seas, do I really want to be around to die a slow and fiery death? Not particularly, but I’m not too keen on suicide either, as hopeless as my situation is.

I remember the Twilight Zone episode my reality now is. The one where an H-Bomb destroyed that bookworms’ Earth (or America, whatever). I’ve got all the time in the world…so why not spend my time reading? It’s genius! Why didn’t I think of it before? Barnes and Noble was like my home away from home (the public library either never had the books I wanted or all the copies were always checked out), a safe haven. My room and basement are no longer an option to escape to so why not Barnes & Noble? My hopes rise, until a thought nags at me. ‘What if it’s completely destroyed like everything. Books burn easily after all.’ But this is all I have left and if Stop and Shop was able to stick it out maybe Barnes & Noble had a stroke of luck too. I don’t think I’d be able to go on and plan my survival if I don’t quell my curiosity about Barnes & Noble existence nagging at me. Quickly I finish what’s left of the pint of ice cream and force my way back outside, full of renewed excitement of going once again to Barnes & Noble.