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Short stories: End of the world

the injustice became too much for us to bear, we began planning our revenge. It was not difficult for us to organise ourselves, after all we were the people who actually ran the world. Our new masters were too important to know what was happening on the ground floor. The stationary guards with the black glasses had stopped taking an interest in our activities, the over-confidence betrayed them and gave us the means to plan our take-over. The conflict was short, and violent. Bloody massacre befell the last collectives of man. Despite being greatly outnumbered, the expertise of the guards allowed them to smash through our ranks like an iron fist. They would sweep through the waves of our men and women, killing quickly and indiscriminately, but even they could not withstand the sheer volume of hatred facing them, and once overwhelmed they were quickly ripped apart. Our masters were not given such luxury as a quick death. We tortured them like the savages they had imagined us to be.

When it was over, there were so few of us left that we could barely carry on. A handful of families stood with the world empty before them. Of those remaining, many died a short time later through injury caused by the battle. There were roughly twenty humans left alive once it all was over, a single village on an unpopulated planet. Beasts once more held dominion. We lived out our days with great remorse, knowing that humanity could not recover. We spent our time basking in the achievements of man, collecting all the great music, art and culture we could find and preserving it with the vain idea that perhaps another intelligence will rise on this planet and look back through it's planets history to ind where it came from. It is to this end that I write this, with the hope that a lesson may be learned by that intelligence. It was not merely greed which killed us all. It was our apathy.

Learn more about this author, Angus Macdonald.
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