Seth G. Anthony is the last man on Earth. His friends and family have all fallen to the virus--the virus that does not mutate or kill but rather wipes out your will power and rots your sanity. It grows on you, you see. Seth has survived the scurge by mere luck, and in his bitter goodbye to the world he knew, he writes one last story: the documentation of the end of the world.
The Evolution of Insanity
Number 1: the last book
Seth G. Anthony, a young man with all three of his name firsts, considered his decision to write the novel of a lifetime or not. This was to be a professional take on everything, starting with the autopsy. He was unsure the responsibility deserved to be his, nor if he was up to the challenge… after all, if Seth did this, wasn’t his fate to become hopelessly insane by the end? If the god thing would permit him to post even the first page, that was. He knew, yes, he was the last one. Sure he was scared, but that came with the duty of putting into type the most awful and apocalyptic events that had ever graced the earth. If he was to do this, he will die. Well, not necessarily die, but at least lose all recollection of humanoid memory. Some of the Helpless were capable of feeding themselves (on anything) and drinking (anything) with ease, but most were drooling, Neanderthal beasts without pain and emotion. So the choice was his: write the book likely no one would read, or try to remain alive without confronting it in the atmosphere. Seth dared to die, he knew the god thing would find him eventually. That wasn’t avoidable. Seth accepted this. What he could not bring himself to face was the fact he would be setting himself up for death. There it was; out in the open. Death, like a white mist rolling in, unstoppable but brilliant in its clarity. Seth saw it, knew it, feared it, and would face it. But how was he supposed to basically jump in front of the truck? “It doesn’t matter,” was his final say, “Dead by sundown or not.”
POV Change, work by Seth first person.
In The End
Documentation of the Apocalypse
“This weakness grows upon me. I am faint,
And much I fear me ill - it will not do
To die ere I have lived! – Stay - Stay thy hand,
O Azael, yet awhile! – Prince of the Powers
Of Darkness and the Tomb, O pity me!
O pity me! Let me not perish now,
In the building of my Paradisal Hope!
Give me to live yet- yet a little while:
‘’Tis I who pray for life- I who so late
Demanded but to die! – what sayeth the Count?”
-- Politian, an unfinished play by Edgar Allen Poe
How can we face a thing we cannot understand?
Written by Seth Gerald Anthony.
On December 27, 1996, four lives were lost at the hands of four arguably indirect culprits. Exactly three years later, much after the case had been declared a cold one; a single connection was made which puzzled scientists and investigators across the nation. Past evidence cited that each led simple lives far away from each other, except the case of the fireworks. And that too was just a coincidence, along with all four of the deaths taking place two days after the Christmas. However, the recently discovered evidence shined a new light on the cases, and along with, shining a new light on pyschology never before examined. This new insight examined madness as a physical substance, possibly it could be represented as words, philosophy, contact, or even temperature. Insanity was now measured as possibly treatable; maybe it is not the mind and self-infliction that was behind it. Of course, this new data flared a large argument worldwide that shifted to several sides and degrees of logic. Some proclaimed God to be the creator and destroyer of craziness. Others used their heads to configure something called the Handshake Dilemma. Still some, by the end there were a great many, took a side not before seen. These people, Project Passageway (ProPass), designed an extraordinary idea… that the element of madness was a breathing creature… That madness wasn’t anything involving the mind, but involving a animal built to survive the human body, to penetrate its immune system, to infiltrate the barriers of insanity and reason, to eat, to live off of the body slowly expiring from the interior. This creature, this Madness, might even be smarter then humanity.
A few weeks later, all of the members from Project Passageway were dead. They had supposedly committed suicide.
The world, unable to except their ideas and questioning their suicide antics, couldn’t deal with the stress of this revelation.
The deaths and creatures were forgotten.
But I never forgot. And now I write their stories, because the world cannot lose this information. It’s been several days since the autopsy.
And people had begun to die.