The World One Year After the Pandemic Duaa Ben Salem Libyan-International School Of Stavanger, Norway (3rd Place)
I knew this was going to happen eventually, but I never thought it would happen this fast. It’s 6 am sharp. A ring sounds from the other room. A little hustling, a click, and the ringing stops. A flickering light illuminates my face as I stare into the wide-open, grimy, yellowing, empty fridge. We've run out of food. It’s been about a year since the virus made its first appearance in the bustling, overcrowded city of Manhattan. Things started off slow. Enough for people to notice - not enough for anyone to panic. It Infected anyone in near proximity but never showed any symptoms, this terminal virus spread quickly yet soundlessly. Slithering, sneakily amidst the crowds, just like a snake, taking innocent people’s souls and leaving none behind. It was like you were playing a game of tag, but this came with a twist; you didn’t know you were playing and you only found out you were playing once it was too late. No one really paid any attention to it. Besides, there were only a couple of people infected, what’s the worst that could happen, right? Wrong. At first, people started to randomly disappear. They were found dead with no apparent cause or explanation. As the death rate increased, suspicion rose amongst the public, and rumours about a deadly virus became the wide-spread topic of discussion throughout the entire city. Eventually, these rapidly-spread theories reached newspaper outlets and quickly flooded the media. Once the panic settled, reality hit everyone like a slap in the face. It became clear this virus was not going anywhere any time soon. No one was safe. Everyone was in a frenzy, stocking up on food and necessities. It was as if the world was ending, but the thing is - it actually was. The virus killed anyone who got infected, it was final, but scientists started to notice something. A select few were immune. The Earth had become completely broken, it slowly grew more and more silent as the time went by, and as people started to disappear. Abandoned houses lined the deserted streets, shuddering with loneliness, mourning for their owners’ return. Echos of laughter from the children who once lived there and the gentle hum of the music that was once played there became only a whistle in the wind. Memories were left etched into the wooden walls. Subtle scratches, each telling their own story, were engraved in every nook and cranny. Furniture became rundown, although it remained untouched, it slowly grew a thick, musty layer of dust almost like a tent. Playgrounds became dilapidated. They fell to crumbs, overtaken by the greenery growing in its place that crawled out like a shelled snail who knew it was finally safe to come out. The only people left are the immune now. We mainly consist of young people. Before you knew it, there were only a couple of us left. No adults to tell us what to do, no one to keep us in control. The rest of us slowly, but surely, transformed into ruthless animals, only caring for ourselves and our trusted ones. It was the new way of life, brutal but mandatory. Separated and formed into gangs, we were left off to fend for ourselves in whatever is left of what we call Earth.