I can hear my stomach howling like the wind through the empty trees, as I make my way through the ancient cornfields. I remember hearing stories of the old gods when they were alive. When the soil was fertile, and fruit hung bountifully from the trees. Even the poorest were still fat, and able to achieve contentment. The soil cracks beneath my feet, a graveyard of a once fruitful cornfield, now the lands are cursed and infertile. I’ve spent my years eating nothing but roaches, and rotten fruit that was no more than a plant’s miscarriage. The soil is full of malaise; the earth is attempting to purge its infection of humans —a mistake the old gods made, when creating it.
I can see my mother’s face in the corn husks. Old and gaunt, I never realized she was a walking corpse like me. I am now old myself, the same age as her when she passed many years ago. I am twenty-four. An age many in my village in the howling cliffs never reach. They say my mother and I are blessed with longevity, but we were cursed the moment we opened our eyes on this dead planet.
Hunt the animals three times your size. Let the little ones go, they will not sustain you, unless you are starving to death. This is how you use your bow and arrow. Make the arrows from wood that is light, and be sure to sharpen the edge with your pocket knife until it draws blood when you touch it. If anyone comes to our village and you do not know them, shoot them onsite. Be sure to eat their remains as well. No meat goes to waste. I always thought her lessons to be a waste, as we all were doomed to the same fate. Maybe it’s my excuse for being a bad hunter.
The air smells old here, and the clouds hang so low and thick I’ve never seen the sun. I’ve been told the sky is blue by many pre-war picture books. I can sometimes see the sun trying to break through the clouds, on a lighter day. But there is hardly a difference between day and night. That’s the only reason I know it’s real.
I can feel my age when I run from bandits. When they’re fat, and agile I know they’re the same hunters who took my mother away. I would rather let my flesh melt in the acid lakes than let them have it. I can feel my legs beginning to melt into the earth as I know my breaths are final —wait, what’s that? I see a light beaming in the distance. It is a kind of light I’ve never seen before. It looks like some kind of beacon beckoning me forward. I cannot die until I’ve seen whatever this light is. It is a soothing white, one I imagine the sun to have on a cloudless day. I see it now, it is normally the corpse of a large building I’ve been told was some kind of restaurant. I can’t read, but I know the alphabet, let’s see … c-l-o-t … b-u-r-g-e-r … it means nothing to me, I suppose. But where the corpse once was, it has been revived. I can … see people. I can see people! Wait, no I can’t go inside. I can smell something wafting through the air, begging me to move forward. I can’t do it … I mustn’t ever go near strangers. But this light, it’s so soothing. I suppose I was finding a place to die anyway, I may as well see what this is. The glass is no longer shattered, and the signs glow in radiant colors I cannot describe. And the smell is some kind of meat … and it has this succulent scent. I can’t resist! I approach the door, and let it swing behind me, when I’m jarred by a loud DING! My heart skips, and I’m greeted with a friendly voice; “Welcome to Clot Burger, permanent residence of the Clot Burger, what can I make for you today?” I’m greeted by an older gentleman, around my age. His skin is somehow fair and untouched by malaise. He isn’t dull, or gaunt like the rest of us. He is thin, but I can see no bones through his skin.
“What is this place?” I can’t begin to describe what I’m seeing. The decor is clean; red and white. There’s some kind of strange hard flooring that consists of small red and white squares. The smell alone is enough to drive me mad.
“The best burger spot in town!” Replies the man. He isn’t real. He can’t be. I stare at him blankly, and he hands me a flat plate, with another plate atop of it, with some kind of food items. “A burger and fries for you.”
“For me?” I say, my mouth salivating uncontrollably. He nods with a smile that makes my heart race. Ignoring the other people, I begin digging into the food. The taste nearly makes me gag, as it is so pungent and flavorful, that I can’t handle it. The way the leaves and fruits burst between my teeth, and the way the meat feels on my tongue, paired with whatever the flakey yellow concoction holding it together is enough to make my taste buds soar. It’s almost as if I can taste the blue sky, and the memories of my mother. I can see my failed hunts, my village, and the silhouette of the sun. I can feel tears oozing out of my eyes as I … I can’t remember anything now. But that doesn’t matter, the taste of this food is immaculate. I can’t stop devouring it, and when it’s gone, I eat the thin crispy delicacies on the tray next to it. When I look up, I’m hunched over the tray like a starving animal, wiping my face on my dirt covered sleeves.
I don’t know where I am anymore. I look outside, and the world looks bleak. It’s a place I don’t want to return to. I sit in one of the longer seats for a long time. I can’t understand the other patrons in the restaurant, but that doesn’t matter. I can feel whatever age I felt before disappearing as I sit here, silently and motionless. All I know is that I need not escape; this is where I belong.
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