Prayer of the lonely

*Prologue*


One day people were there, all of them. Like always. Everyone else.

And then came a night, just like any other. Somewhere, a young woman, pregnant and alone, said a childhood prayer.

And after that night, another day.

And on this day, people were gone, all of them.Everyone else. Except for Jenny.

And Jenny--for a time--- lost her mind.

For three months she screamed and for two more after that she cried. Haggard, afraid, alone, weary, she cried.

But, in time, her swelling belly brought her back, as did the kicks within her. And finally, she could think beyond the fear. And at last, her child was born. Born to the last woman, the last human, on earth.

And she looked down at him, weak and bloody and wet though she was, and she smiled a feeble smile. Tears and madness, maybe, but she smiled at her son, still entwined to her. And because the two of them were alone,so all alone and solitary...

She named him Sol.


*Now*


The wind was cool and he hungered again. He wondered, vaguely, how far he might have traveled this day. How far from home was he now?

He whistled as he walked, as he almost always did. He liked the sound, even if he didn't actually know any tunes, because sound was his friend. His companion.

The grassy highway lay before him like a long green and grey ribbon, and he saw the morethanme place ahead, still far away. The morethanme places that, if his teachings and memory were accurate(and he was sure they were) were once called 'towns'.

Yes. Towns. That was it, he was sure.

And he walked on, whistling.

In time, he read the words on a green sign , written, he imagined, long , long ago by the gone-ones:

"Welcome to Portersville.Nice people live here. Pop.5300"

Abstract nonsense. For while his teachings had taught him much,very much, some concepts he just could not comprehend. Some things just made no sense at all.

He sighed, winding down his whistle-companion and letting the sound vanish into the cool evening breeze. He missed it as soon as it was gone, but he had things to do and couldn't be distracted now.

He rested in the fading sun ,sitting on the steps of some old gone-ones bighouse with a peculiar white 't' attached to the top of a pointed roof. THESE oldplaces had a specific name, he knew, but couldn't really remember what the word was....

No matter, he was hungry, and these places always had food to eat and things to use. Salvage.

And so he stood and pushed his was into the bighouse of the gone-ones. Food, water. He knew the food rooms, the cannedfood, what was good, what wasn't. It was always important to find food if possible. If not, it meant eating the green of the land---and he really hated greenfood.

*****************************************************************

Four oldplaces later and he had found, and eaten, some cannedfood and filled his water jug. He also loaded his backpack with certain items that caught his eye. A new knife, a few pointed things, a soft thing and fourteen matches. He was full and ready to seek again. Ready to travel forward again.

Back on the old highway and walking steady, he resumed his whistling, telling the old town goodbye with his mind, the way he always did. A place he had been but would never return to.

Ahead of him, the sun was a golden red, slipping down behind a blueish mountain range, rays weaker now and making him colder. When darkness came, he would walk a bit more, then find a place in the trees to sleep. Cold, maybe, but it seemed he had always been cold at night.

And being cold at night was much much better than sleeping in an oldplace. By far.Sound , his best friend in the sunlight, was never welcomed in an oldplace at night. He shivered just thinking about it.

He walked on, whistling, until the sun faded completely and the trees were near the road. In a small ditch, he spread his ragged blanket upon the ground and lay upon it, covering himself from the night air with his second blanket. He closed his eyes and said the words in his mind. The words his mother had once whispered so long ago and so far away:

"now I lay me down to sleep...."

And in time, he did.


*Epilogue*

One day people were gone,all of them. Like always. Everyone else.

And then came a night, just like any other. Somewhere, alone, a young man said a childhood prayer.

And after that night, another day.

And on this day, people were back, all of them. Everyone else. Including Sol.

And Sol---for a time---lost his mind....

This story is perfectly self-contained. It painted a vivid picture in my mind.
Great writing style.

Thank you, friend. I'm flattered that someone enjoyed this.

Loved it......

"morethanme" places...I can dig that.