The Lonesome Road

By Harisson Shaws

Looking for the last remains of human life, a lonesome wanderer must find his identity and the reason for his journey.

The fallen Earth holds secrets, an ancient war that will show him he is not alone. With old forgotten feelings of mistrust and sorrow, the Wanderer will have to navigate his path and remember

• Language: English
• Publisher: 5310 Publishing
• Release date: May 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781990158230

Harisson Shaws

Harisson Shaws is a London native, a dreamer and a storyteller. He believes that as a writer, he can provide the comfort and escape some are looking for in books, and also the support to those who need it.Harisson's latest release is The Lonesome Road: Looking for the last remains of human life, a lonesome wanderer must find his identity and the reason for his journey. The fallen Earth holds secrets, an ancient war that will show him he is not alone. With old forgotten feelings of mistrust and sorrow, the Wanderer will have to navigate his path and remember his past. The Wanderer will have to stay neutral and true to his path if he wants to uncover the truth about his journey. But all things come with a price, and the cost might be his soul.Being raised on stories of ancient times and being fascinated by the old myths and legends, Harisson wrote his first book, Last Viking of Norway. But as much as his focus is on reliving those legends, Harisson focuses on the individual, the struggle one faces when fighting the world, and the heavy toll it can take on a person's psyche. Hoping to help those who feel abandoned and misunderstood by the rest of the world, these stories are written, for them, by them. Follow Harisson Shaws on social media: @harissonshaws on Twitter and Instagram.

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About Harisson Shaws

Harisson Shaws is a London native, a dreamer and a storyteller. He believes that as a writer, he can provide the comfort and escape some are looking for in books, and also the support to those who need it.

Harisson’s latest release is The Lonesome Road: Looking for the last remains of human life, a lonesome wanderer must find his identity and the reason for his journey. The fallen Earth holds secrets, an ancient war that will show him he is not alone. With old forgotten feelings of mistrust and sorrow, the Wanderer will have to navigate his path and remember his past. The Wanderer will have to stay neutral and true to his path if he wants to uncover the truth about his journey. But all things come with a price, and the cost might be his soul.

Being raised on stories of ancient times and being fascinated by the old myths and legends, Harisson wrote his first book, Last Viking of Norway. But as much as his focus is on reliving those legends, Harisson focuses on the individual, the struggle one faces when fighting the world, and the heavy toll it can take on a person’s psyche.

Hoping to help those who feel abandoned and misunderstood by the rest of the world, these stories are written, for them, by them.

Follow Harisson Shaws on social media: @harissonshaws on Twitter and Instagram.

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Title Page: The Lonesome Road by Harisson Shaws. Published by 5310 Publishing.Cover Page: Portrait on a cracked wall. Inside portrait: a couple and a dog, the face is blurred. text: The Lonesome Road by Harisson Shaws.

 Logo : 5310 Publishing company

Published by

5310 Publishing Company

5310publishing.com

This is a work of fiction. The situations, names, characters, places, incidents, and scenes described are all imaginary. None of the characters portrayed are based on real people but were created from the imagination of the author. Any similarity to any living or dead persons, business establishments, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 by Harisson Shaws and 5310 Publishing Company.

All rights reserved, except for use in any review, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. Reproducing, scanning, uploading, and distributing this book in whole or in part without permission from the publisher is a theft of the author’s intellectual property.

Our books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact your local bookseller or 5310 Publishing at [e-mail].

The Lonesome Road Paperback: 978-1-990158-22-3

The Lonesome Road Hardcover: 978-1-990158-65-0

The Lonesome Road Ebook & Kindle: 978-1-990158-23-0

Author: Harisson Shaws

Editors: Alex Williams

Cover design: Alex Williams, Eric Williams

First edition (this edition) released in 2022.

Themes explored:

- Narrative theme: Identity / belonging

- Narrative theme: Death, grief, loss

- Dystopian & utopian fiction

- Magical realism

- Contemporary fantasy

- Science fiction: apocalyptic & post-apocalyptic

- Adventure fiction

- Speculative fiction

Subjects:

- FICTION / Magical Realism

- FICTION / Science Fiction / Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic

- FICTION / Dystopian

Qr code Description automatically generated

The Climb

I

’m standing in a bottomless pit. Turning around, I see nothing but darkness. I can hear voices above and see a sliver of light. But below, only weeping and crying of the misfortunate souls that are condemned with me. I stand up, grab onto the wall, and start my climb... As I climb, I can see the wall stone is slippery, and as I ascend further and further, I don't feel the shivering cold anymore.

As the sun gazes, I feel its touch for the first time in a long while. A warm embrace that fills my wavered heart with hope. But as I continue the climb, something is falling. There is someone on top of the wall, grabbing rocks and debris, throwing it on me, trying to land a hit, wanting me to fall, as he cursed every miss. His words, rocks, and pebbles hit me, slowing my rise. I can feel the pain. His voice is dark, cold, but somewhat familiar. I embrace the pain of his shouts, the sudden agony in my heart, and the dismay of the impact.

Looking down, I can see it's not much further. The thought of darkness scares me, going back to its cold embrace. But as I think more and more about the light, the realization I’m going to face that man on top as well, fear starts to consume my body.

I freeze, not knowing if I should drop down to the dark I know too well, or continue the climb since I’ve come so far, crossed all this way.

I muster up the remaining strength in my heart, telling myself it can't be worse than below. As I continue the climb, reaching closer and closer to the end of the pit, the man becomes angrier and angrier, agitated, throwing heavier rocks, throwing heavier insults.

Holding my head close to my chest, I keep telling myself that I determine what happens, not him. I am the master of my life, so I keep climbing.

As I come closer to the light, I cannot help but wonder why the voice of that ill-mannered man sounds so familiar. But in my heart, I know that he is on top, he’s bathed in the light, while I was in the shadow of the darkness. He doesn’t know the pain and sweet comfort of the abyss I’ve endured. He is not stronger than me.

I put my hand on the last stone ledge. Feeling the sun’s bright ray, I pull myself up out of the pit, already prepared to face my mortal enemy. Looking at the man standing above the pit, a cold sweat consumes my body, shivers sent to my entire spine. I look at the man’s face, and in shock, I see my own reflection. The man, spitting image of myself, is standing now in front of me, only much paler, with tears in his eyes.

Who are you? A demon? A spirit? I asked.

A spirit not so, but a demon I am in my own way. I am you. For ages, I have watched you in the darkness of that bottomless pit. Yet you lay on its bottom, shivered in the dark, as you refused to stand, sinking below further by your own choice. I have been there, watching over you since you fell in it.

Even throughout the shock and fear that made my body motionless, I was able to pull enough strength to muster some words.

If you are me, and what you speak is true, then why you say for yourself you are a demon, and why did you shout, insult me, and throw rocks, wanting me to fall?

Through the tears, the pale image spoke.

I have watched you fall. I am your demon, your doubt, and your pain, which you long ago accepted as a part of yourself, not knowing the sun's shine or happiness of the warmth. I have tried to prevent you from coming out, as I know, how can you after so long knowing dark accept light? I weep, as I know you were once in this light, but it burned you, and you barely survived the pit. And I know it will break you once more, but the dark will not hold you. It will consume you.

I now, with tears running down on my cheeks, step forward to the figure, hugging him with a sweet embrace.

I cannot forget the dark which held me once, but I will not let it determine my life. As light might break me, and the darkness consumes me, I am the master of my life and fate that befell me, no matter how happy or gruesome it might be, from my arms it will be welcomed. I have known both the dark and the light. I will walk on, accepting both, but giving my fate to none. And now we must go. The figure spoke with a surprised look on his face.

We? You want me, after all I have done to prevent you from leaving, to join you on your journey? But I cannot go, where light is, I cannot survive. With the warmth of my smile, I reply embracing him.

You watched me in there for so long. You are part of me and denying I would make you bigger. But worry not, we shall walk alone. Just stand behind me. I will keep the sun forward and you behind, knowing where one and the other is, not letting anyone out of my sight, because I am the master of my life.

Our scars might remind us of past pain, but not the light nor the dark should determine how we live our lives.

The Lone Wanderer

I

walked alone through the shadows that the tall buildings cast, like giants watching over the once vivid and song-full city. Now just as a reminder of some past times, they stand tall, relics of an ancient order, such as I am myself.

Those buildings and the entire world which surrounded me felt new, yet familiar. I couldn't feel a cold breeze on my skin. No winds moved the hollow now trees, stripped bare of its leaves, as once not so long ago did. The jungle of concrete and metal once felt like an anthill, buzzing of life, souls rushing on, minding only the empty task of the day they had. But now, no sound can be heard but the eternal silence that fills these streets, flowing throughout my veins, which pump that sorrowful blood all the way up to the heart, leaving it feeling bare, alone, stripped, and wasted. I march on, in search of laughter, shout, even a slight remark of a whisper which I grew to miss so dearly.

I have been walking for so long; time seems to have stopped, pulling everything in one place, even myself in one way or another. I have been walking for so long, missing things I have held for granted. The simple hello from a stranger, a warm embrace of a loved one, or even just a sight of a curious passerby. One fearful thought keeps on rushing through my brain even though I quickly dismiss her. Thinking of some better times, I find myself faced with the ugly truth...I might be the last one.

No one knows or remembers what happened exactly. Maybe we neglected the home we were given, and our mother finally rebelled against us, punishing us for our misbehaving and sins done over the last long years to her. Or perhaps we were betrayed by our own greed and fear, looking over our shoulder, valuing the life of our fellow man less and less, until we decided to grasp for something that wasn't ours for the taking and putting the final stroke on our neighbor. No one knows what exactly happened. All that matters now is that the world fell silent so long ago, the song of billions that sang in many different tunes can't be heard anymore, the night ceiling that connected us seems to swallow the once peaceful place, and the fire that warmed us, not just around, but also in our hearts, seems to be extinguished by none other than ourselves. Who knows what happened, but one thing is certain, we brought this misfortune upon ourselves, a band of mortal man, when did we think of ourselves as gods?

I keep searching for answers, even fearing what they might be. The thought of being right scares me. It used to be the night. The only fear I had, my mortal enemy, and yet now it is but an old friend, a familiar I welcome. And how can I not? As it was once a stranger, dragged in a cloak, now is an old friend, my only companion in the vastness of a lonely world.

I walk the streets in the hope I see something familiar. Something I lost, but not knowing if I wanted to find it. Yes. Yes...I am not lost, but something is. A feeling in my gut, in my heart, I must find it...But what? My mind was clouded by despair, self-doubt making me nervous by every corner I pass, looking back, right, left, front, knowing something should be there, but never knowing exactly what. Even though light seems to have left this place which it once inhabited so long ago, there is still a small trace of it, trying to break through the thick dust, like a fish trying to swim through a strong current, the rays tried to break free from the dark, polluted oppressor that was preventing them.

The night falls. I know now she is different. Even the mistress of the Moonlight, the Eternal Night, feels different. You can feel her sadness as she falls, replacing her now exhausted brother. The now night, you fear it not because of the possible terrors it might bring, but the sorrow you feel when she comes. Stand still, lie down, keep your ears and senses sharp, and you can hear her song of sorrow. She yearns for the better times when she embraced us all in her cold comfort, looking down on us as we looked up, smiling and being amazed by the wonders of the stars and the stories she brought with herself. But now she feels the pain of solitude, knowing the last of us have abandoned her. It’s not the danger of the night you should fear now, but the heartbreak it brings, listening to her sweet voice full of tears and pain.

I couldn't bring myself to face that song once more, as my heart by each day grew weaker as well, empathizing with her grief as I felt my own. I saw an abandoned house not so far away. A small, brown sanctuary, tucked and hidden beneath these big giants, the place made it seem like someone plucked it right out of time and placed it there where it doesn't belong, just so others can wonder how it got there, something so simple, but yet in a grotesque marvel of a big city, an amazing beauty. The walls cracked but still standing, being a true testament through time, with windows slightly broken but barely visible, with the dirt of the dust painting them the same as the walls. I pried the doors open, which to my surprise, were in good shape.

Too tired to venture further into the house, I quickly checked the ground and upper floor, hoping to at least find some traces of my fellow man. But neither clothes nor belongings are left. Whoever was here left in a hurry, bringing with them everything they owned.

Downstairs, on the shelf above the fireplace, just an old picture of a man and a woman remains. Him in a suit, a gentleman, with medium-short dark hair hugging a blond beauty, with the most amazing smile which made me space out for a moment, to forget the harshness of the world for even just a second.

I placed the picture down, looking at the old fireplace, thinking to myself I deserve a break, just even for one night. On the dusty, old bookshelf, I pulled the first book that my hand could find and started ripping out the pages, putting them in the old fireplace, lighting it with my rusty lighter.

I got lost watching the dance on the few branches I picked up from outside. Watching the sparks burst from the dry trees reminded me of dancing. One spark invited the other, bowing down then pulling themselves together, rumbling around without the care in the world. The fire made me warm, igniting the fire not just in the room but the lost flames of my soul. I managed to pull myself away from the gaze of the seductive dance that had me under a spell, realizing I still was holding the cover of the book I used for the pyre. War and Peace it read. I chuckled, realizing the irony of it all, of how life makes the cruelest of jokes, and in the end, the punch line was not meant for the last man on Earth. Then I heard knocking on the door.

The sound of knocking woke up a long-lost, forgotten fear in me. For so long, wandering around this bare wasteland hoping to find any human contact, forgetting the fear of strangers and the horrible nature it brings. I froze. I felt life leaving my body with each knock, which with every next one became louder and louder, aggressive, almost as if whoever was on the other end had his patience tested, by keeping him on the other side of that door, which by every next knock seemed slimmer and slimmer.

After snapping out of it, out of my cocoon of fear, my survival instincts kicked in. The first thing that came into my mind was to find something to defend myself. Anything will do, so an old, cheap-looking knockoff of a candlestick I saw on the table would make the cut. I even felt safe for a second, holding on to that rusty thing in my hand, thinking I would be able to just bash the person who came here as soon as they opened that door, which by now I didn't know how it held from that banging. Well, that did last for an entire second, me already reveling in my victory, when the next logical thought came into my mind. What if they are armed with a gun or a rifle, or how can I be sure if the agitated person is even a human?

While thinking that I was about to be devoured by a beast, I was panicking, turning around, looking for exits, like a rat trapped under the bucket, even the thought of burrowing down and tunneling came up. As I was prepared to destroy the back window of the house, which was jammed, I heard the perpetual knocking stop.

I turned around, pale, feeling the sweet kiss of the same fear as before. Curiosity got the better of me as I walked closer and closer to the door. I stopped just a foot apart of it, not knowing what to do exactly at that moment. I doubt that whoever was on the other side gave up and just turned around and walked away. Even if they did, the danger was surely waiting for me around the corner.

All those thoughts came rushing down, feeling a heavy weight dropping on my chest, making it harder and harder to breathe as I looked around and thought to myself what to do, seeing I was just a rat trapped within these four walls, easy prey for the curious cat waiting in front to secure her food. I fell on my knees, desperately gasping for air, like a man trying to release the hands of someone who is choking him, trying to escape his grasp. I was clenching for a breath.

As I thought my own body would fail me, denying me the air I needed and just that it was inevitable to pass out and present myself on a silver platter for my predator, not even putting up a fight, I heard a voice from the outside.

Breathe, calm yourself down. It was a woman's voice, sounding so familiar to me.

The voice sounded soft, comforting. To someone who didn't hear anything but his own voice for so long, it sounded like the gentlest and most harmonizing song ever written. When you spend so long by yourself, you come to hate and despise your own voice, as a song that has been stuck in your mind for so long you cannot stand to hear it.

I would very much appreciate it if you would let me in, you know, she said, The night is cold and being in the open below the moon does make me feel unsafe.

I managed to pull myself up, realizing that my panic attack had stopped by focusing on her mellow sound. I stand up, and, still with a grain of fear, I grab the doorknob and slowly pull the door open, still not being certain what awaits me on the other side. As I opened the door, I could see a blond, tall, gentle creature awaiting me. She just smiled at me and, with a soft hello, asked if she could come in and warm up. She entered the house, sat down at the fireplace, which still had its own song playing. Still amazed and cautious, I kept my distance and couldn't break my gaze from her. She just smiled and asked

You know it makes you weird, staring like that. It’s kind of creepy, right? I pulled myself together, shaking all my uncertainties off.

Sorry, it's just... It's been so long since I have seen anyone. I feel like I have been walking for ages now, and I have lost all hope. And to come up here and find you it's... it's just so surreal. And I have this strange feeling we've met before. Have we?

She just smiled, with a half-grin on her pale face and said,

Maybe, maybe we did in some past life. It’s just...this seems all like some nightmare, doesn't it? Maybe we are the last two of our kind.

She brushed her golden hair to the side, still sitting and just staring into the fire, like it was some familiar friend, a scene in a play she enjoyed watching.

You know, I have come a long way looking for you. Hearing those words struck some shock in me, as the whole situation seemed peculiar, and with every passing second, I couldn't shake the feeling I had seen her before.

It’s been so long since I have seen anyone here. Why don’t you sit here with me? I promise I won’t bite after all this is your shelter since you were here before.

True, I was hesitant for a moment, as it all seemed too good to be true, like a mirage in a desert calling my name to drink the water I haven't tasted for so long, this, her, and everything seemed like an illusion. But I shunned my doubts and thoughts of curiosity and sat down next to her, joined to watch the flames dance for our entertainment.

Why are you afraid of me? Haven't you walked all this way through this barren wasteland to find the answer to what happened? Are you the last one? And now I see the fear and doubt in your eyes.

As she talked, I was more focused on her than her words. I could not hear her speak as I gazed at her lips, red as the fire itself, forming the half-grin almost every time she used them. Her eyes blue, familiar and comforting in a strange way. I could not describe them better than saying they were like a lake on a sunny day, so clear, a reflection of the mid-day sky, with the suns sparkle mirroring from it, inviting the nature to join in, mesmerizing, like something surreal, something that still with all its beauty installed doubt as it begged the question is there anything so perfect? She noticed I had been lost in her face, as it was the first one I had seen other than my own in ages. I asked for her name, and a burst of laughter and tears came out of her.

I am sorry, but isn't it more courteous for me to ask that? After all, you are the one being all creepy here, staring at me.

And it did make sense what she said even though it was obvious to me, she was avoiding the question.

I'm sorry, I don't mean to come off as insulting or creepy, but it is to me too convenient that after all this time, I was around looking and you just came about and found me. And I really feel like we met before. Which is strange as I can't recall anything, not even my own name.

She shrugged and, with her half-grin, said, True, but I did say I have been looking for you for a long time now. And you not remembering your name is not really reassuring for me, same as I am not to you. So why don't we call you... hmmm... Wanderer, since you have been wandering around looking for it. Oh my, you don't remember even that, do you? Of course you don’t, how could you? You don’t remember your own name. How could you remember what you were looking for all this time? You have been wandering about, senseless, with a false hope that this, whatever you want to find, will just magically appear, right? You are so stupid. Kind of sad, actually.

I wanted to tell her how all of her accusations were false, that I was looking for others, looking for someone else but me, the truth about what happened. But as I just even thought about telling her all those things, a feeling in me arose. A feeling that even thinking about those things made me realize it would be a lie to say that was exactly what I was searching for. I held my head with both of my hands now, as I had a massive headache from all the effort of trying to remember what it was. What was the reason I was walking and wandering for so long? What was I searching for?

Now you can relax since you have bigger things to worry about other than me. And seriously, do I look like I want to hurt you?

As she said that, I did think that she had all the time in the world to catch me by surprise and hurt me. But here we are, in front of a fire, feeling the heat of the one in front, but also from the one in my head, which rose higher and higher, as I tried to remember.

So I know you are full of questions, and yeah, even if I had the answers I couldn't give it to you..., she continued, But all you have to know is this, Wanderer, I am not here to hurt you, I assure you, I come in peace and bringing all benevolent with it, I am here to accompany you. If it assures you, know to watch your back till you finally find it.

I just stared at her for a second, not believing a word what she said,

Ok, goldy locks, that's great and all, but mind telling me what that IT really is? You would save us both some massive time if you just told me what it was since my head is going to burst from all the questions. I said snarky and a bit pissed off, not caring how it was really as I was growing more and more nervous like a child who was being kept in the dark by adults, not sharing the reality of the situation.

Look, you can be snarky all you want, Wanderer, but here is the thing.

She moved closer