I think I'll post this here. :P It's a story I have to write for English class (rough draft is due on Tuesday), double-spaced, and only 2 and a half pages long. Oh, and it has to start with: "The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door…" Other than that, there are no restrictions. It's got to have a theme, and I'm thinking of writing a different short story since I don't like this one as much as I probably should. I'd like some feedback from you guys, the internets, whether it's criticism or praise. Please tell me how you think I'll be able to improve the story! :P

Number 158

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The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door…or at least that’s what the man thought. Stuck in this stark white cell since birth, he rarely got visitors. The only time he was even let out was when they did experiments on him. They, the researchers and scientists, usually talked to him through a buzzer. No food or water was ever delivered, as he did not have the need for it. Thus, because of this, he also had no need for a toilet. Only the hands-free shower developed by the scientists stood in the corner; it had the ability to clean you with the press of one button. There was no bed in the room because he had long lost the need to sleep.

He had the appearance of being in his late teens, with a young face and an energetic spring to his step. His build rivaled that of a bodybuilder and most people were forced to look up at his face in order to talk. Standing up immediately at the disruption, number 158 stared at the iron door that trapped him from the outside world. And then there was silence. His eyes flickered momentarily to the red button on the wall. He knew it wasn’t logical to use the buzzer in his current situation. There was, after all, nobody left but him and maybe a few of those artificial intelligence robots in the underground cell next door. He ignored logic and pressed the button anyway. “Hello?” He asked. There was no response, just as he had predicted. Number 158 guessed that the knock had just been one of the protections on the door that prevented him from running away was malfunctioning. It had been a while since it was last checked-up and repaired, anyways.

Two hundred and thirty-three years. That’s how long it had been since the world froze over, temperatures all over the world dropping to under a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Number 158 had been keeping tally on one of the walls of the cell ever since Earth entered the new ice age on August 4th, 2065. One minute the orange-brown leaves had been fluttering to the ground, the next frost covered the trees and leaves were replaced by icicles. Most of Earth’s population had gone and froze themselves to death. A few desperate people had even set up camp in Death Valley, hoping the extreme heat would be able to keep them warm. They first died of heat stroke & dehydration, and then the cold eventually settled in and froze their bodies over. Sitting in his cell underground, number 158 had watched countless numbers of frenzied news reporters stumbling over their words in order to report the latest story to the survivors on the TV that they, the scientists and researchers, had placed in his room. The television wasn’t shiny and brand-new as he saw in the TV shows and commercials, but it was better than not knowing anything at all.

Looking again at the iron door, number 158 wondered if he could smash it open with sheer force. Not only had the scientists injected number 158 with an anti-aging serum and a serum that kept his body going and developing energy without any resources, they had also injected him with a muscle growth serum and watched as he lifted weights five times his weight every day. With the scientists gone, probably frozen to death in the lab, number 158 had continued lifting weights since there really was nothing to do other than walk around and watch TV when there were no more experiments being done on number 158.

Bam! Forcefully punching the door, number 158 pulled his hand back and blinked in astonishment at his own strength that there was now a large dent on the surface of the door. Why have I never tried to escape before? He asked himself angrily as he continued punching the door. It’s so easy. I could’ve escaped when those scientists were here and took them out, I didn’t have to go through those experiments… Number 158 furiously kicked a hole just big enough for him to squeeze himself through and found a little voice in the back of his head answering his own questions, “If you’d tried, you would’ve died. The knock was the security system failing, don’t start wailing and flailing.” Number 158 scowled and stepped into the dark hallway, the fact that the little voiced rhymed his words annoyed him just a bit more than it should have.

The dark hallway of the underground cells where the experiments were kept was eerily creepy. Number 158 remembered these hallways being blindingly bright, researchers and scientists bonding him up in unbreakable ropes as they led him to the testing room. Number 158 wandered around listlessly in the hallways, knowing full well that a survivor wouldn’t pop up around the corner and congratulating him on escaping. Hoping to find the exit out of the goddamned place, Number 158 found a stairwell, and the sign on the wall indicated that he was currently on floor -50. Sighing, he started the trek up the stairs, which was no big deal given his long-lasting endurance. Ignoring the fact that the door to the ground floor was unlocked, number 158 kicked it and watched as it flew across the room to crash into what looked like the receptionist’s desk. Only having seen the real world through the television, number 158 stared through the windows at the world outside, and watched as the sun slowly crept its way up, ice melting as it did so.

Theme: There is always hope.

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