One Morning, I Woke Up, and the World Was Empty

One morning, I woke up, and the world was empty.

At first, I thought it was just another quiet dawn, the kind where the city was still asleep. The air was still, the early light casting golden streaks across my bedroom wall. But there was something unsettling—something wrong. The silence was unnatural, too deep, too absolute. The distant hum of traffic, the birds chirping outside, even the muffled sounds of a neighbor’s morning routine—all were gone.

I sat up, my heart pounding. Maybe my phone would give me a clue. I reached for it, unlocked the screen, and stared at the time: **07:06 AM.** Notifications? None. No missed calls. No new messages. Nothing.

Stepping to the window, I looked out. What I saw froze me to my core.

### The Streets of Nothingness

The street below was empty. Cars were parked, untouched, some with doors left open. A bicycle had fallen over on the sidewalk. A traffic light blinked, mindlessly switching from red to green, signaling for no one.

I dressed quickly, grabbed my keys, and ran outside. I called out. My voice echoed against the buildings, but no response came.

Down the street, a café door was open. Tables were set, coffee cups still steaming, plates of food half-eaten. But no people. It was as if everyone had just—vanished.

I walked aimlessly for what felt like hours. The entire city was still, like a painting, frozen in time. The metro station was empty, the trains waiting without conductors. The shopping mall’s automatic doors still worked, letting me in, but every store was deserted.

I wasn’t just alone.

I was the only one left.

### Searching for Answers

Panic began creeping in. Maybe there was news about this, an explanation. My phone still had a signal, the WiFi was working. But when I opened social media, the last posts were from the previous night. The last messages, the last news articles—nothing explained what had happened.

The internet itself seemed frozen in time. No live updates. No breaking news. Just silence.

I turned on the TV, flipping through the channels. Pre-recorded shows, reruns, movies. No live broadcasts.

I tried calling emergency services. The call went through, but no one answered.

I ran to the police station. Empty.

Hospitals? Deserted.

Airport? Abandoned planes sat on the tarmac, doors open, luggage scattered.

I screamed into the sky, begging for someone, anyone, to answer. But the world had nothing to say.

### The Weight of Being Alone

Days passed. I scavenged food, looted supplies from stores, slept in different places each night. The loneliness became unbearable. The silence pressed against me like a physical weight. Every step echoed too loudly. Every breath felt like an intrusion in a world that no longer belonged to me.

I began talking to myself, just to break the quiet. At first, it was just mumbling. Then, full conversations. I laughed at my own jokes. I debated with myself. My own reflection became my only companion, my shadow my only proof of existence.

I started writing in a notebook. Recording everything I did. I kept hoping—praying—that maybe someone else was out there, that I wasn’t truly the last one.

But deep down, I wasn’t sure anymore. I wasn’t sure of anything.

### Exploring the World Without People

Weeks turned into months. I decided to leave the city. Maybe other places were different. Maybe this wasn’t the whole world. Maybe it was just my city, my country.

I took a car and drove, first to nearby towns, then further.

Everywhere was the same.

Small towns, vast highways, gas stations, entire countries—all lifeless. The world was a ghost town. Nature had already started reclaiming the land. Grass sprouted through cracks in the roads. Deer wandered freely through city streets. Birds still flew overhead, but without people, even their songs felt eerie.

I walked into a grand library, its thousands of books untouched. I sat inside a stadium, empty seats stretching around me like gravestones. I stood on the balcony of a skyscraper, looking down at a dead world.

The silence was infinite.

### A New Purpose

I had a choice: continue living in this void or give up.

I chose to live.

If I was the last human, I would become the keeper of history. I wrote letters and left them in buildings. I documented everything I saw, recorded messages in abandoned studios, filmed videos of what remained of civilization.

Maybe, someday, someone would find them. Maybe the world wasn’t as empty as it seemed.

But then, one night, I heard something.

A sound.

Footsteps.

### The Echo of Another Life

I froze. My heart pounded against my ribs. I wasn’t imagining it. The sound was real. Slow, careful steps, crunching against broken glass in the distance.

I grabbed a flashlight and turned it toward the noise. A shadow flickered between the buildings.

My breath hitched.

“Hello?” My voice was hoarse from months of solitude.

Silence.

Then—a whisper. A faint, broken voice, barely audible.

I ran toward it, desperate, afraid. What if it wasn’t human? What if it was something else? What if I had lost my mind?

I turned a corner, the beam of my flashlight sweeping across the empty street.

And then, I saw them.

Another person.

Their face was pale, their eyes wide with the same disbelief I felt. Their lips trembled as they spoke, voice shaking:

“Are you real?”

Tears blurred my vision. My throat closed up. I wanted to answer, but all I could do was nod.

After all this time, I wasn’t alone.

The world wasn’t empty after all.