The only thing illuminating the room was the small lamp on top of the desk, and the only sound breaking the silence was the soft rhythmic tapping of fingers. The man was not remarkable in any sense of the word, and average would probably be a word wasted on him. The tapping continued as the man rested his face against his right hand as he looked down upon the almost empty paper on the desk in front of him.

“Why?”

Five strokes and one dot, that's what he had accomplished. How long had it been? 10 hours? The man didn't know, nor did he care. After a while, the tapping stopped, and the man raised his head from his hand as in enlightenment, grabbed his pencil, brought it down upon the paper and wrote nothing. He muttered something under his breath. Why? Why is it that he couldn't explain it? He put the pencil back on the desk and went back to resting his head in his hand, rhythmically tapping the desk.

His “concentration” was broken with the sudden appearance of loud knocking from the door. Or maybe sudden was the wrong way to describe it, he had heard the sound before, at least a dozen times since he locked himself in the room. He stood up from his chair and walked to the door, the knocking drowning out the sound of his footsteps.

Dragon master : It's very good. Keep going. I want to read more.

Thats pretty good man very creative it looks like it going to be a good story

The only thing illuminating the room was the small lamp on top of the desk, and the only sound breaking the silence was the soft rhythmic tapping of fingers. The man was not remarkable in any sense of the word, and average would probably be a word wasted on him. The tapping continued as the man rested his face against his right hand as he looked down upon the almost empty paper on the desk in front of him.

“Why?”

Five strokes and one dot, that's what he had accomplished. How long had it been? 10 hours? The man didn't know, nor did he care. After a while, the tapping stopped, and the man raised his head from his hand as in enlightenment, grabbed his pencil, brought it down upon the paper and wrote nothing. He muttered something under his breath. Why? Why is it that he couldn't explain it? He put the pencil back on the desk and went back to resting his head in his hand, rhythmically tapping the desk.

His “concentration” was broken with the sudden appearance of loud knocking from the door. Or maybe sudden was the wrong way to describe it, he had heard the sound before, at least a dozen times since he locked himself in the room. He stood up from his chair and walked to the door, the knocking drowning out the sound of his footsteps. He opened the peephole and looked out of his secluded domain.

The scene would be breathtaking, the light of a sun setting in between the crumbling buildings, the fires rising towards the sky like the last flame of humanity singing it's greatest hymn, and the machines slowly creeping forward, ravaging all in its way and finally the frame of a girl knocking harshly against his door.

“Open this door, I know you're in there!”

He ignored the girls pleas and went back to his desk, resuming his lazy tapping whilst waiting for inspiration to hit him. Why? Why was it so hard for him? He only wanted to explain what he had done for future generations. Maybe it was all futile, he knew that the chance for future generations in this world was nigh impossible.

“I don't care for what you did, I forgive you, just speak to me again!”

The girl didn't give up, and he frankly understood why. They had been inseparable, but everything must come to an end sometime. His viewpoint wasn't optimistic, but neither did it have to be, after all, there wasn't much left for the world.

“I don't think it's your fault, nor will I ever, just speak to me!”

Not his fault? Her delusions almost made him chuckle. After all that had happened she didn't think that it was his fault, she had always been far too trusting for her own good.

“I know that you never wanted to get dragged into all this, but I need you out here, you can make it all better.”

He stood up and walked back to the door, he soft placed his hand on it and spoke to the girl on the other side.

“I've killed people.”

“I know.”

“I've tricked and ruined lives.”

“I... Know”

“I continued my research, fully knowing the risks.”

“You didn't want this to happen.”

“But I fully knew it would.”

“.... You didn't hope for it.”

“...I used you, as a mere tool for my success.”

“...”

“See? It can't be forgiven.”

“Maybe not... But you could make up for it.”

“How? What could possibly make up for what I did to you?”

“You'd let me use you, as a tool... For my survival.”

“Heh... Fine.”

The man opened the door and stepped out, out from his secluded security and into the wild of the apocalypse. The two of them walked away, past the damaged houses, past the fires and towards the end of this city on the verge of destruction.

But when they thought they had once again found hope, the machines started moving faster, their spider like legs making haste as they walked over the crumbling houses towards the two. The man turned around towards the machines, and waved for the girl to keep moving. As she ran away from him and the machines she could hear his voice behind her.

“Save yourself, I'll hold them back!”

The man thought that his life had been futile, that all he had left for the world was merely five strokes and dot. But little did he know, that in one heart, he had left the hope for a future.




There you guys go, a short story without much point.

I hope someone out there found it interesting to read.

Wow that was cool man great imagination. It reminded me of teminator a little.