squawk, coo, coo, whonk, baa, bleat, baa, baa,
screech, screech, squawk, squawk, squawk, squawk, screech, screech, screech, neigh, snort,...
Were the continuous loud sounds of birds, swans, horses, and sheep that woke me up.
This animal orchestration went louder and longer than usual.
There was a streak of light at the bottom of my eye mask, so I knew it was morning. I rolled over onto my back, extended my legs, and I reached out to touch my husband, but he was not there.
Hmmm, how did I not wake up, when he got out of bed, I wondered?
Strange, I thought!
I sprung off the bed and walked to the saloon of the boat, but he was not there either.
How could he have gone off the boat without rocking it, I thought?
Was I so sound asleep?
Instinctively, I felt like something was wrong.
Looking along the towpath, there's no one in sight.
Then, in the distance, a boat appears under a bridge. As the boat slowly approaches me, I'm blinded by the sun. Using my hand as a visor, I'm looking to spot the skipper to say hello, but there's no one at the tiller.
Suddenly, the boat makes a zig-zag to the side of the canals, and it crashes into the banks. The engine revs, continuously.
Then comes another boat behind me.
Gloojsssshhhhhhhhh!
Looking over my shoulder, I see two boats crashing into each other, with the engines revving also.
But no one is onboard.
What the rass is happening? I thought.
Ruff, ruff! leaps a hound dog down the towpath towards me, with no owner. He barks as if he's delivering a message.
I cannot comprehend what is happening.
My fears heighten.
I look around, but nothing makes sense.
Something is very wrong I thought.
Spotting a marina a few metres up the towpath, I enter through the open gates. All boats are securely moored at the marina, and I see windows and doors open, but there is no one around.
Approaching reception is the OPEN sign. Pulling the door open, I hear Coward of the County, my most hated song being played on the radio.
I'm feeling nauseated.
There is no one in the reception, but there's a pen and an open book with a bunch of keys.
Feeling disappointed and worried, I close the door and walk back to the towpath.
Fears of the worst start to creep in. What exactly happened?
I could not make sense.
Still, I'm wishing this was all a dream.
Anxiously, I'm running towards my boat, with every hope that my husband would be there, waiting, and wondering where the heck I had gone.
As I'm running, feelings of despair hammers in with every stamp of my feet on the ground.
Jumping on the stern deck, I nervously grab the handle of the door.
"Cameron!" I yelled.
There's no answer.
My worst fears are consuming me, and I'm hating all the signs that I'm seeing.
My mind flashes across the globe. My heart pounds, numbness is all I feel.
My mum, dad, and the faces of my sisters and family flash in front of my eyes. Oh, Cameron! I cried.
Knowingly, I slowly release my fingers and watch my mobile sink into the bottom of the canals. I no longer needed it.
My emotional response has me laughing hysterically.
I laugh out loud till I gasp for air. I started panting. Panting, a sigh of relief. Relief that I am alive.
Walking miles along the towpath, I hear boat engines running continuously to charge batteries, but there are no occupants onboard.
Am I really the only human being left on the planet? The question echoes in my head over and over.
Stooping to gather my thoughts, I see a sheep staring at me.
Sheepishly, I stare directly into the eyes of of the sheep, and I smile; the universal language even animals understand.
Looking out into the wilderness, and all I see are flocks of birds, herds of cows, and horses.
Am I alone, alone? I pondered
Tears are flowing down my cheeks, as I'm confusingly thinking of all my family, loved ones, and friends.
Acknowledging that I'm the only human left on the planet, means that everyone precious to me is gone.
I had nothing left to lose.
Living everyday like it was my last, was my best motivation, and I felt like I had no time to lose.
Abandoned narrowboats along the canals carrying multiple solar heating and solar lights were at my disposal. Rivers, canals, marinas, supermarkets were right there for me to get essentials like seeds for planting crops.
Country cottages with private farms and livestock were all there. Knowing that I could not maintain it all, I made stripping back to the basics my only option.
No gadgets, as I had no one to talk to.
I would keep as little material possessions, and focus only on essentials, such as winter clothing to keep me warm, and roam freely in my au naturel state when the sun shines.
Polishing up on my survival skills such as lighting fire with two stones became an urgent priority. Daily training to keep my health in tip-top shape was my coping mechanism.
Being the only human alive, I'd consider myself already dead; Living fearlessly.
Socially, I would conform.
Walking on all fours, I'd mimick the movements of animals for my emotional, physical, spiritual wellbeing, while simultaneously building bonds to communicate and care for the animals around me, before sacrificing them.
Photos are mine
This is my response to option two: Solitary, of the WE86
After a cataclysmic event you are the only human being left alive on the planet. What does your life look like, how do you stay alive, how do you cope with a solitary existence and how do you feel you would cope physically and emotionally with the prospect of never seeing or hearing another human being again until the day you die?
