|Written||10 April 2019|
No-one else left in the village now.
I remember days gone by when we were over a few hundred strong.
I didn’t know everybody back then, and it felt secure that the community was so big.
Then the disappearances started.
A rumour here, or there, but never close-enough, never someone you knew.
When it started to get noticeable, we started to band together.
We stopped living so far apart.
That’s when the Smog closed in.
We found solace and hope in our community – we were close-knit.
But that didn’t help us.
And now there’s only me.
I hear the calls in the night.
They tempt me.
It was easier to ignore when they spoke in voices I didn’t know.
But now there’s no-one on this side to help me.
Now I know all the voices.
Some tried to strap themselves down.
Others did worse.
All in the hope that temptation wouldn’t get to them – that they wouldn’t succumb.
They always did.
I’ve lost track of the days now.
As if I ever really kept track.
I’m leaving this behind as a note - just in-case anyone finds this place.
If this hollow in the smog still exists without me, without the community that founded it…
Because I’m pretty sure that very soon…
There won’t even be…