Cooper Chapman

Heart-Shaped Locket

The horizon glowed a sickly pale yellow as the dying sunlight touches a sea of spores congealing along a baleful skyline, obscuring the roads, decorated with bones of all who failed to escape. From the outskirts of a city, long dead and overtaken by the spores, a man enters, alone. Prepared for the unforeseen doomsday, the man had built a bunker in his basement, seal-proofed to prevent radioactive contaminants, supplied with oxygen tanks to ensure years of survival, and hazard suits that would allow him to venture outside, if he needed to. Living alone in a bunker out of reach of the spores, out of reach of the world. This was not what he had pictured it would be like. He could never have guessed the form of which the end of the world would take, but at one point, he thanked God for surviving. Now, he cursed him. In his mind, he had been left behind. He was alone.