Beginning of Misanthrope's Long Dark (Short Story)


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Note: This story takes place in the early days following "The Final Lights" my name for the geomagnetic event featured in this wonderful world, Holding a setting in my personal favorite region, Coastal Highway. By now, the confusion has died out, but so have many of the unprepared. The sudden drops in temperature are beginning to grip the environment and mankind is at it's last breaths. The view follows Micheal Sarant, the original occupant of Misanthrope's Homestead, as he takes his first sights of this frigid new world.

Another cold day had come and gone, nothing unusual to Micheal Sarant, a man who had spent most of his adult life living away from modern civilization, but the last few days had been especially so. His view of lights from the highway had been cut off by abrupt snowstorms, and his heater had shut off days earlier. Through his binoculars, he could only see the occasional wolf or rabbit, pacing around the sheet of ice slowly encircling his home, a problem not usually seen by Micheal. As the days turned to weeks, and Micheal's cabinets slowly emptied out, he decided it would be a good time to cross the water to re-supply. What little water was left, that was. the ice had grown to leave only a few yards from the island. As he walked onto the mainland, Micheal was met with a grim setting, bodies frozen in and around crashed vehicles, with birds fighting over the iced deceased. After taking a moment to honor the deceased, Micheal began the trek down towards the town, the bodies seemed to follow after him, their glossy eyes following him as he walked away, the town was surprisingly in better shape, with a trio of people huddled near a campfire beside the road, paying him no mind as he passed. As Micheal reached the Gas Station, he found his usual resupply in a sealed container inside the store's counter, the only thing left untouched by the apparent band of looters who had come through before him. Filling what containers he could with water, he left money in the box, closed the counter, and departed. As he passed the campfire group, Micheal paused to inquire about what had caused the scenes around his former home, the only response in the form of a few quiet mutterings, and gestures for him to leave. Upon his return home, Micheal retrieved a telescope from his basement, along with a ladder, and climbed onto the roof to scan the coast for any signs of life. His optimism was shattered as he saw similar scenes to those near town, with frozen vehicles, and very few signs of life. The feeling wasn't helped when Micheal heard sounds of gunshots from the town's direction, intermixed with shrieks of pain, and the steadily rising winds.

When Micheal moved to that island off of the highway, everyone told him his life would become a living hell, well, hell had frozen over, and he was stuck in it.

 

Post writing notes: SO! That was my first story written on these forums, and I'd like to hear thoughts. Criticism both constructive and otherwise is welcome, as I hope I'm not the first to attempt to capture some of the scenes of madness initially following "The Final Lights." Until next we meet, ladies and gents.

SECONDARY NOTE: The Title of this was rushed out of my need for sleep. But it works.

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