Creative Story inspired by J. Conrad's Heart of Darkness with commentary

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Story By Lewis Burroughs

1st Draft

The blinding light pierced through me as I left the shelter, I was dazed. I tried to shake it off - by squinting my eyes I could see. Afterwards I wished I couldn’t. The world, now a barren wasteland, was desolate, so bright yet so very dark. I kept thinking to myself, this is a nightmare - this is not my sanctuary, I did not escape my past for this. 

I soon came to terms with my situation though, my journey was a bleak one no matter how you spun it, but like the posters in the shelter said If you’re going through Hell, keep going and I was stuck right in the middle of Hell.

I found myself wandering this wasteland. Nothing seemed to fit with memory - there were houses, but, they were shacks in comparison, half a roof, support beams, and everything else just seemed blown away. I tried to think of where I might’ve been but the world, this world, was so very different. The sun was still bright in my eyes and the heat was starting to affect me, I could feel the slow pulsating warmth beat down against my skull pushing it towards my brain, slowly, squeezing, till it was about to burst. It seemed to me as if a jackhammer was drilling away into my skull - I needed to find cover and water hopefully. I soon found myself scavenging like a homeless person, which I guess I now was, in people’s homes, or what used to be. I did find some pretty useful items though; I decided to ditch my heavy work jumpsuit for some other clothes and I found a newspaper dating 1965. I was amazed, the shelter had kept the outside world hidden from me, I couldn’t believe I’d been there ten years.

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This journey went on for a fair few weeks, possibly a couple of months. I spent most of my time sleeping in bombed out houses, living off tins and packets of dried food. I was not alone, there were animals and other people! I was told about a camp where I could stay and this one guy explained about how hell had been realised onto us for our sins, I don’t know what he was talking about but he kept saying it was our fault, strange man to say the least.”

“I hadn’t washed in ages and ...

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