Twelve years back, the land collapsed, the sea rose. Ten years later, the asteroids rained down, the other planets gone.
Then, the Subzero started.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
A year after the Late Asteroid Bombardment, a winter came that seemed t...
Oops! Bu görüntü içerik kurallarımıza uymuyor. Yayımlamaya devam etmek için görüntüyü kaldırmayı ya da başka bir görüntü yüklemeyi deneyin.
I look like crap.
After a year spent with Halley and the other Halleys living inside my head, I've given up the idea of staying clean and neat. When I occupied the attic, I broke the window panes, which now serves me as the door. One of the panes remains intact, and every time I pass it, I'm compelled to stare at the girl who I hardly believe is me.
Her unbelievably long hair flanks her face... her face, oh, her face. Crooked nose. White lips, cracked. Sunken eyes, with panda circles. I don't believe she's me, but she moves as I move. There's no way her name is Halley. She looks so horrible even a hippopotamus won't find her attractive.
Months ago, I was sixty-six or so kilograms. Since we settled here, I've only tasted good food once – the delicious polar bear stew Dad made. I could have made the same recipe to add some pleasant shape in my scrawny figure. Polar bears pass my house often. I could have shot one. Only I don't know what to do to a dead polar bear because (a) I can't make fire and (b) eating raw polar bear seems pretty unpleasant. I can live without much muscles, anyway. It isn't as if I'm trying to be fit to attract someone. I'm not planning to create a human-hippo hybrid, sorry.
Today, the gray sky is only duller than my spirits by a spectrum. Snow has fallen once again, and I decide to distract myself with my favorite hobby – searching snowflakes.
I walk around the house with my S2000 rifle, on my way to collect snowflakes and compare them to my collections and examine if there's any twin snowflakes. I only walk twenty meters far around the house. It's the farthest distance I had made between the house and me. I never plan about walking farther. Venturing this world, it's idiocy. I've seen enough horrors in seventeen years of living in this planet. I want to see no more.
I study the seven snowflakes in my palm, like how a scientist observes a fungus. One of the snowflakes looks like the one I found last month. I know my snowflakes like the back of my hand. I feel a slight flutter of delight. I should check out my collection. Grinning, I turn around.
Then I see it.
There's a silhouette inside the house. It moves back and forth, urgent.
