Memento Vitae

In the year 3085, the world ended. Just like we knew it would. It started with the weather. As more and more pollution and carbon fumes were released into the atmosphere, the ozone layer dissipated, and the sun's rays were no longer sweet and warm but scorching. In the warmer countries, people stopped going out during the day. Things got even worse when the ice caps melted. Floods, death, destruction. After that came the famines and diseases. World War III was a fight for resources - water, fuel, food. Humanity was stripped of its very nature as every creature on this planet strove for survival. We were no longer superior to beasts but equals in our daily scavenging for nutrients. Day by day, death grew more and more widespread. It seemed like the planet itself was attempting to put an end to all living things so as to start anew. Little by little, all animals disappeared, then all edible plants, finally humans. It all came to an end, just as we had all predicted. At this point in time, you may be wondering who I am and how I am writing this. That is, if these writings are ever found once the world repopulates itself. Well, let me tell you how I lived. My father was a scientist, and my mother was a doctor. Both incredibly gentle souls, who never believed in violence, or the survival of the fittest doctrine Darwin was so keen to impose. From a young age, they instilled in me the knowledge that life was precious and that nothing mattered more than that very gift my mother and God had bestowed upon me. The year was 3081. I was 5 years old when my parents packed all they could carry and, unbeknownst to anyone, fled to a remote region of Reykjavik, Iceland. We were completely alone in a desolate land. My parents had begun to hoard years and years’ worth of canned goods and water in a large shed behind our cabin 5 years before I was born. How did they know you ask? Well, let's just say my parents perceived very early on what would happen. Both knew they had to get away to a place where no one and nothing could reach them. Both knew secrecy was of upmost importance. So they began preparations as soon as they envisioned having a daughter. As the world began to end, we vanished from the lives we lived just as they had always planned. However, it is impossible to live a life without a trace. And that is why, on my 15th birthday, having taught me everything they could possibly teach me to survive, my parents made the ultimate sacrifice. They left, never to return. They went back to a world of chaos, hunger, and wreckage so that I might live in secrecy and that the world would never know of my existence. I don't know how they died. I don't know when. But I know they intended to. I still remember that chilly morning, as I stood at the front door of the cabin trying to hold back my tears. My father, ever the cheerful soul, laughed loudly and gave me a big bear hug before jumping on the boat. As he got ready to leave, I saw his shoulders shake but he never looked back. My mother held my face in her hands and gave me a sad smile before kissing my forehead. She had tears in her beautiful green eyes, but she was smiling. Her last words to me were: "Smile my sweet Agara. Today is the beginning of a new life". Then she walked away, got on the boat and they both left, never to be seen again. My parents named me Agara. Derived from the Latin and Gaelic dialects, it means something along the lines of "beloved gift". It's one of the only things I have remaining from them. The other is a locket my mother gave me when I was ten. It has a small image of their smiling faces inside. I've not taken it off since the day she gave it to me. I guess part of me fears that if I do, I'll not feel them near me anymore.

It is the year 3086. I have stopped counting the days and months as there is no point. All is silence now. No birds chirping, no insects. Nothing. I am alone in this place to live out the remainder of my life as my parents would have wanted me to. At least, that's what I think they wanted. I often wonder if I should leave this place. Maybe I could try to see what's become of this earth these days. I guess part of me fears what I'll find will only make me feel lonelier. On my 16th birthday, I decided to row to the nearest port village in Reykjavik. My parents did for a while to fetch supplies or make enquiries. When I got there, things were just as I'd expected. The village was ransacked, houses destroyed and burnt to the ground. And then, nothing. A bone here or there testifying to a life having existed. I walked amongst the ruins, hugging myself tightly. I knelt beside piles of rubble, looking curiously at the scraps of artefacts once owned by others. The silence unsettled me, so I tried to break it by coughing or sighing. As I neared the edge of village, a sudden movement caught my eye. My eyes widened in fear as I thought of all the terrible possibilities. I approached cautiously and pinched my nose as a certain smell grew stronger. I realised I was walking towards the bloated corpse of a dead pregnant wolf hidden inside the chimney of one of the houses. For some reason, hope fluttered within me as the thought of there being live animals near me excited me. I could tell from the corpse that the canine had lived way more than she should have on sheer perseverance. She must have fed on the carcasses and garbage surrounding these ruins. Then, out of the blue, I heard a faint rustling followed by the tiniest whimper. I grimaced, thinking that perhaps a rat had found a place within her. But as I stared intently, I realised the whimpering came from underneath her corpse. I hesitantly lifted it up to find a gruesome spectacle. Six puppies lay side by side, starved and lifeless. The seventh barely moved, its eyes still closed, its little mouth opening and closing. I had no time to register what I was seeing and before I knew what I was doing, I tucked the little thing inside my jacket and raced back home praying I reached it in time. I shut the door behind me and laid a blanket in front of the chimney then ran to fetch firewood and lit a fire. I placed the creature as close to it as I could and ran to fetch powdered milk to mix with some warm water. It was barely breathing. My eyes started tearing up as I realised how desperate I was to keep this little being alive. I guess I hadn't realised how strong my yearning was not to be alone anymore until there was a chance that I might not be. I wrapped the pup in blankets and dipped my pinkie into the warm, milky mixture. As my hand neared its tiny snout, I saw that it was trembling violently, and I could no longer hold back the sobs as I gently touched its nose and begged under my breath for it to live. With my other hand, I gently caressed the top of its little head. For some unknown reason, I started to hum as I cried. I hummed a tune I remembered my mother humming as she was getting ready to leave me. For the first time since they left, it dawned on me how much as missed them. My chest ached and my tears fell freely from my tired eyes, but I kept humming.

"Hush little lamb, hush. Close your little eyes and listen. Hear my voice and know that I am always here. No matter where I go, no matter what I do, you are home to me, and I'll return to you. Hush little lamb, hush. Put a smile on that sweet face. Happiness is as all I wish for you. Love is all I give to you. And on dark nights where all seems lost and your heart yearns for warmth, sing this lullaby my child and know deep within your soul that this yearning will haunt you no more."

By this point, I'd shut my eyes due to stinging of my own tears. I had given up hope of the little creature's survival when I suddenly felt something moist tickling my pinkie. My head shot up and I opened my eyes to see a tongue, the smallest I had ever seen, slowly and tentatively licking my finger. Words will never express the joy I felt in that moment as I laughed loudly and uncontrollably. I picked the pup up and put it in my lap, stroking its soft white fur and feeding it more milk. It started sucking on the tip of my finger hungrily. I giggled and rested my back against a nearby couch. "What to name you?" I thought to myself. Skoldor? Clovis? No. Winslow. "Loyal friend". And you will be, I can tell. After that day, things didn’t seem so grim anymore. I devoted my time to caring for Winslow and I watched him grow, I developed a sense of pride and endearment. I had named him loyal friend a loyal he was. Wherever I went, he went. At night, he curled up my feet and licked the tips of my toes until I fell asleep with a smile on my face. It’s amazing what a little companionship can do for one. We may have been the last two creatures on earth, but we were together, and we felt loved. That’s all I needed.

One chilly morning, as I went to the shed to get some supplies, I saw Winslow begin to act strangely. His pointy ears were upright, alert. His white fur stood on air, spikier than usual and his blue eyes shone with intense curiosity. I asked what was wrong as I picked cans off the shelf and Winslow turned back to stare at me before looking back outside. I stared quizzically and walked outside cautiously. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. All was quiet. I looked at Winslow once again, he looked at me and then began to walk a few paces ahead, turning back to look at me once again. I put the cans at my feet and sighed as I followed him. We walked a few miles, past desolate farmhouses, and barren lands until we reached the port. I hadn’t been here since the day my parents left. I looked out to the sea and smelt the salty air as I let my gaze drift across the abandoned vessels moored to the port. Winslow let out a bark as he started to dig near the wharf. As the layer of snow gave way to soil, I saw something colourful and bright poke through. I knelt beside Winslow as he gently tugged at the object, then slowly licked my hand as though he knew. But even if he didn’t, I did. My knees gave way as I freed the object from the earth and with it a note. My mother’s scarf. Remnants of her wonderful geranium smell flew into my nostrils. My eyes teared up as I clutched the scarf to my chest, dirt, and all. I bent over and rested my head on the ground, crying loudly, screaming at times, letting all the pain, anger, and sadness I felt seep out through those screams and into the wind, gone. Winslow howled with me out of pure instinct, reminding me that I was not alone. I lifted my head up slowly, panting. His big eyes stared into mine as he licked my tears away. I let my hand rest atop his head and sighed. As I looked back at the scarf and at the ground surrounding me, I saw the envelope. Small, yellowed by age, seemingly insignificant. I stroke it gently and then put it in my pocket. I stood up, kissing Winslow’s forehead as I did. I wondered how in the hell he knew where to find the scarf. I guess he recognised the smell from somewhere. As I walked back home, I brushed the dirt of my mother’s scarf. Questioned floated in my mind. Why hadn’t she given this to me in person? When did she hide this? And if she had done so intentionally, how did she expect me to find it? I sat on my bed and took the envelope out of my pocket. I carefully opened the flat and took out its contents. A simple piece of paper. Nothing more. I don’t know what I’d been wishing for. Perhaps a map to help me find them or some special token. I opened the piece of paper. My parents’ writing stared back at me. First my father’s. Then my mother’s. It read as follows.

“My loving girl,

I have never been good at goodbyes. Although I’ve known this day would come, I wasn’t prepared for how much I’d grow to love you. But I know you are strong, stubborn, and confident. This world may not have much to offer for now, maybe not even for years to come but you are as brave as you are patient. You will wait and you will witness this earth’s healing and renewal. We took you away from the world so that you would not witness its demise. The violence, the cruelty, the sorrow. You shan’t bear any of that burden. Instead, my wish for you in that you will carry on with kindness and generosity, nurturing life wherever you find it, wherever you see fit. I believe you will have an opportunity unlike any other. One the most powerful of humans have often killed and bled for. To build the world anew. To see its inhabitants be what they were always meant to be. Respectful and kind creatures, led solely by mother nature. I know this task seems great. It may be dauting at first. But I have faith in the girl we bestowed our knowledge upon. And I pray, that, above all things, you find this life a life worth living.

Take care sweet flower,

Your father.

My Darling child,

I can still remember the day I found out I was pregnant. The joy I felt at your first kick. The happiness I felt when I first held you in my arms and said your name aloud. Agara. My gift. Your father and I truly believe that. And even though I know you will be alright, leaving you is the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. Dear Agara. I lack the words to express how proud I am of the woman you’re becoming and of what I’m sure you will accomplish. You have your father’s avid curiosity and my fine ingenuity. In my heart of hearts, I believe this dying world will open itself up to you in ways it never has to anyone and as you walk this path, we have placed you in front of, I believe you will live the greatest adventure anyone has ever known. Oh Agara, do not be afraid. This journey will be arduous yes, lonely too. But you will find in it meaning, I know you will. And someday, in the furthest of futures, we will be reunited. Until then, know that I watch over you. Always.

With love,

Your mother.”

I folded the piece of paper and wiped away my tears, noticing that they’d rolled down my neck and onto the locket my mother left me. The clasp had become unlatched somehow and the little image of my parents was soaked. I removed it carefully and pressed it against some tissue paper, drying it as best I could. Then I placed it near a candle and left it on my nightside table. As I stared at the empty space where the picture had been, I placed my thumb on the inside of the locket and was surprised to feel the careful indentations of an inscription etched deep into the interior face of the locket. I held it beside the candle and read the words that sparked within a feeling I will never forget. Memento Vitae. Remember that you will live. I looked at Winslow, calmly sleeping at the foot of the bed and smiled. That we will.