When the Nights Become Longer by Phoebe Harris
When the Nights Become Longer
Nights became longer after everybody left. There were only a few of us that decided to stay, but I hadn’t seen the others who stayed behind in at least a week. The closest interaction I’ve had to another soul was when a rat tried to steal my shoe. I don’t know if my perception of time has gone wonky or if night is legitimately overstaying its welcome, but the darkness seems to swallow everything up. Also, the stars have gone dim. Constellations swim through each other and the stars flicker on and off like dying lights. In short, it’s lonely. I’ve made an abandoned house on the very outskirts of Ahoy my home. It’s slanted, but the least destroyed building I’ve found. Inside, dust has settled on everything despite my inhabitancy. It’s as though the town wants to stay abandoned. Sometimes it feels like I should be scared, but the
reality is that there’s nothing out here to hurt me. I’ve never been so absolutely alone. Before Starfall, I would’ve longed to be left alone, live unbothered without any outside interactions. Now, I would kill to be with somebody. Anybody. Morning light began to filter through the gaps in the wood planks, and I groaned at the thought of another day on the face of this earth. As I was rolling off the dirt-covered blanket that serves as a bed, my ears pricked up. My heart pumped faster, pumping adrenaline through my body. A shadow was walking around the house, disrupting the light between the cracks in the walls. I held my breath, reaching for the knife I always keep close by. The shadow knocked on the door. Politely. Uncertain, I crept towards it. When I opened the door, I decided to retract my statement. I would kill to be with somebody, but not anybody. Anybody but the person standing outside my door right now.