Michael Marshall

Journal Entry

As each day passes, I find myself wondering more and more if I am the last one left. Today was the first time in three months I’ve seen another living person and even that was from over a kilometer away. I spotted her with my glass as she made her way across the dry riverbed with a purpose, making a determined beeline to the opposite shore. The blighted sky cast her in shades of purple and whisps of smoke spiraled from the fabric on her shoulders as it smoldered from the bloated, midday sun. This was a death march, I thought. I could think of no other reason than surrender to make a journey before nightfall, but victory is the only word that comes to mind as I remember how tall and proud she carried herself, taking long strides through the oven our world has become.