I am prepared for the doom that marches upon us. The catastrophe is coming and you’d have to be an idiot to not see it, not to prepare. Although people are idiots and they just carry on with their day to day drudgery like it will all be fine. It isn’t fine! The end days are coming, and I’ll be ready. And they’ll all come to my door wanting my help. I can’t wait.
My training started young, because the knowledge came young. Partly because I observed society slowly collapsing around me, and partly I could sense it in my bones. I’ve always had an old soul.
So I started learning. I learned how to get food without supermarkets. I got my grandad to teach me what weeds were edible: did you know you can make salad from chickweed and hairy bittercress? And you can make soup from nettles? The thing with weeds is that they survive. When the end days come all your fancy vegetables that need special grow lights, they won’t last five minutes in the new climate. Do people know that? No, I’ve asked. Do they care? No. So I’ve been cultivating weeds in my room. Pots and pots of them. I want to cross pollinate them to make new, super, unstoppable weeds, no luck yet.
I’ve trained myself to use weaponry; I have a sword, nunchuks, even poi made of fire. With these I will be able to fight. I am also trained in martial arts: my own creation. I tried karate and judo, but I found the teachers to be fools and realised I could better design my own fighting methods. I haven’t named the art, names are for people who chatter and I don’t need chatter.
I have learned survival skills too: how to tie knots, how to make a fire, how to catch a rabbit. People think that survival is Bear Grylls, they think they can watch a few sensationalised TV programs and then be able to survive in the wild, ridiculous! When the end days come I will need to pass on my skills if the human race is to survive.
Now the time draws near, I’ve started sealing up my room. I’m using foam sealant I got from Wickes, and cling film I got from a drawer in the kitchen, I’ve been sealing up all the holes, so if it’s chemical warfare I can stay in here and I’ll be fine.
“But if you’ve sealed your room, how will you breathe?” asks my mum because she doesn’t get it at all. I don’t think she’ll last long, I will shed a few tears, but it’s for the best. I must be free of dead weight.
When the end days come, they’re going to need me. They’ll be sorry that they misjudged me, that they laughed at me. I’ll be king. I must be strong.
YOU’LL ALL BE SORRY!!! Good stuff!
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Exactly 😉 and thank you!
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It’s scary to think that there are actually people who think like this. 😐
One tiny niggle: it’s nunchucks, not num-chucks. 🙂
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Whoopsie! Thanks for pointing it out, I shall change it 🙂
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Chilling, yet seeded with a grain of truth. The best fiction always is… Bravo!! 😀
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Thank you, glad you enjoyed it 🙂
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Great read. Sounds like the kid is actually looking forward to all the destruction. Quite disturbing.
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I guess after all that planning… 🙂
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terrifying. you’re inside his ?her? mind so well. (my arm still out of action so pardon for typos)
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Your poor arm! Take care of yourself
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You’re right…but you can’t hid from radiation leaking from Fukashima…Akira will explain all that soon. But your writing? As always…enjoyable and entertaining!
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Thank you, I’m glad Akira will explain all, I look forward to that 🙂
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hide. Not hid.
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To get into the head of a teen is not always easy once one is past that age, but I think you’ve captured the earnestness, dismissiveness and the certainty of that age range really well
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Thank you! 🙂
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Great story. Although, it is rather disturbing that you climb so well into your character’s head. Are you trying to tell us something? 😛
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Hehehe, perhaps I too know things of our tragic future (stares off into distance meaningfully) 😉
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