The sun shone ever so gently on the valley below, a soft melody floated in the air. Loose boulders shifted underfoot as he jumped from one to the next, trusting his balance despite their unsteady grip. Just before each jump, he hummed his song, pausing only to concentrate. After a few more hops, he stopped, standing still with his eyes closed and head lifted to the sky. He basked in the sun’s warmth, feeling the wind tousle the strands of his brown hair. Suddenly, a rumble from his stomach reminded him that he was hungry.

He set his small backpack on the rocks. It was a prized possession adorned with stickers found during his many adventures. His favourite was a little green monster with orange spikes and a wide grin. It was labelled “Tyrannosaurus Rex”, but he knew a T. Rex didn’t look like that — monsters either.

Crouching, he reached inside with his tiny hand, trying to find the can without looking. There were a few things he liked to carry — just in case. Food, of course, but also his beloved red scarf and a car toy that reminded him of one he’d once seen — old and rusty but perfect for pretending. After rummaging for a moment, his hand finally found it. He revealed his prize in the sunlight, squinting as the metal reflected the bright rays. A faded image of a cat decorated the label; the letters had long since worn away. He hoped the food wasn’t cat meat, but he was hungry anyway. He didn’t wait for his friend; it wouldn’t eat.

The buildings on each side of the road loomed over him like giant, silent protectors. He stood up and looked behind, scanning the rubble for his companion. The weight of loneliness pressed on his chest as he searched the debris, hoping to see a familiar shadow in the distance. It would have trouble navigating the sea of debris, but it would eventually catch up. The sound of shifting rocks signalled him of its approach, a soft clatter that made his heart lift. Dog was his best friend, always going with him on expeditions. Together, they were explorers of this forgotten world. They had met in a giant building with so many treasures: jewels, toys, books, and big machines whose uses were lost on him. But that place was scary, and he had never returned after that.

A flock of birds landed on the ground farther away. They caught his attention. The boy sauntered to them until he was close enough to marvel at their antics. He crouched, hugging his knees and swaying back and forth. He found a sense of safety in that comforting embrace, as if he was protected from the world beyond. The birds were tiny, even for him, and brown. They fought over crumbs in a patch of grass that had grown between cracks in the concrete. A shadow from the building fell over them. He wondered if they could speak to each other and if they had best friends and families. The thought made his heart ache a little, but he was happy for them.

Beyond the birds, a large opening in the building beckoned; its doors could be pushed in a circle — he loved those. The windows were barred with wooden planks, blocking his view of what was inside. Rushing to the entrance, he sent the birds fluttering away around him and leaned against one of the large windows. A sense of excitement and trepidation surged over him with the promise of discovery. And exploration. With his hands pressed against the cold surface, he squished his forehead against the glass, trying to look through the gaps between the planks, examining the darkness within.

The doors were spinning faster and faster, pushed by the small boy as he ran in circles. After a while, he stopped, dizzy. It was like a storm in his stomach, mixing joy with the nagging anticipation of what lay beyond the doors. While catching his breath and restoring his balance, he gazed at the lobby before him. A giant room with a single large desk that stretched from left to right. Behind it, two stairs flanked a tagged wall — a graffiti the shape of Earth with a single giant word written in red. “Doomed.” It sounded bad, but he wasn’t sure of the meaning. He grabbed a small notebook and a fluffy pen from his bag, scribbling the word on a new page with a question mark next to it.

The desk and its surroundings were filled with discarded papers that had flown everywhere. The echo of his footsteps bounced off the walls, and he could hear the faint rustle of papers dancing with the breeze. Walking around the desk, the boy wondered if he’d find any exciting book or tool he’d never used. Instead, there was a shape at the centre. A man. His legs stretched out, his back against the wall. He’s sleeping! He was covered in a yellow moss that sprouted in places — mushrooms. Large tendrils emanated from the man in a circle, hooked to the wall and floor. It spread around him, branching into smaller tendrils.

An unpleasant smell filled the air. He quickly covered his nose with his hands. Yet, curiosity pulled him closer, tempting him to study every nook and cranny. Maybe he could even touch it! The strange mix of interest and fear tugged at him as if the very air around the man held a magnetic pull.

He was startled by the sound of the doors turning as Dog was getting inside. “Come Dog,” he shouted, “I found someone!” Dog’s cardboard ears flapped as it got closer, halting next to him. The boy was scared the stranger would wake up, but he seemed to be in a deep sleep — the kind that could go on forever. Beware of strangers! He knew it was dangerous, but he’d be cautious and quiet. He put down his backpack next to his companion. “Dog, Stay!”

Walking over to the sleeping man, he sneaked, putting down his feet where there was no paper. He stepped closer, and his palms grew sweaty, each step heavier, the air thickening as a warning. He could see the skin now, fuzzy, white, and even bluish in some places. The smell was worse here. “Yuck,” he whispered. As he stared, he wondered if maybe the man needed help. Fear and fascination bubbled inside. He gulped, moving closer, his heart thudding in his chest.

Suddenly, something moved behind the man’s face. Legs crawling over the rotten flesh shivered the boy’s spine. Heart racing, he ran towards Dog, screaming, “SPIDER!” The creature was behind him, and his fear grew stronger with each step. He imagined it followed him, matching his speed.

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He caught the bag in his arms and rushed towards the exit. “Come, Dog!” This time, he only made one necessary turn in the carousel. The outside light blinded him for a second. As he burst into the sunlight, the initial thrill of fear faded. He wanted to laugh. His giggles echoed in the street as Dog joined him. “That was funny!”

#

The soft sound of running water accompanied the tune he was singing. “Round and round the world we go ~” His arms swung joyfully as he walked along a river; it had carved a straight passage through stone and dirt. “Past the river through the snow ~” The sun dipped lower, and the boy knew it was time to head home. “Chasing shadows, chasing light ~” Dog walked beside him in his rhythmic march, happy to follow along in a quiet whirr. “Hide before the fall of night ~”

Birds took flight in a tree far ahead, startled by unseen danger. The song could wait. The boy’s instinct urged him to hide — quickly. He dashed down the slope towards the riverbank, where a big rock was lodged. It would serve as the perfect hiding place, its shadow promising shelter. He sat behind it, his legs close to the chest. Dog joined him, nuzzling against his side. “Sit!” They both had practised this before, honing their skills at blending into the darkness. He knew how to make himself small and quiet. Dog tucked its legs beneath its body, nudging against the boy. They were silent. Listening. Hide, hide, don’t make a sound ~

This was scarier than spotting a spider. It was a different kind of fear — one that made him freeze in place. Sometimes at night, he would dream of it: something creeping just beyond his sight, making noises, threatening to pounce. But he could never move, not even a little, as if his whole body was too heavy, bound by invisible chains. Yet, he always woke up at some point, returning to his small bed. Now, however, he was wide awake.

Footsteps echoed through the street, heavy and deliberate. The men spoke in strange, grating tones about things he didn’t understand. One threw a stone into the river; it splashed not far from the boy. He rarely saw other people; most were mean and dangerous. He could never approach them. Close your eyes and count to ten ~ He laid his hand on the back of his friend; the soft buzz of its body always felt comforting. He closed his eyes and waited — wishing he could be playing instead.

You’ll be safe when light comes then ~

The group passed him without noticing, their focus locked on each other. They laughed boisterously, deep voices booming in the silence of the city. “Think we’ll find some food? I’m starting to crave meat,” one of them asked. “Can’t you focus? We have a job to do,” another gruffly replied. The boy’s heart raced at the mention of a “job” — recalling the colourful pictures from a baby book he had drawn over. Maybe they’re firemen.

Curiosity tugged at him, and he allowed himself to peek around the rock slowly. Clad in matching uniforms, they wore helmets and padded armour. Maybe they were firemen, after all! He looked at them in awe as one rummaged through a bag. An object fell to the ground unnoticed. The boy desperately wanted to rush towards it, to see what it was, but a chill ran down his spine. What if they catch me? He glanced at Dog momentarily and whispered, “What do you think they’re doing?’

When they were farther up the street, the boy decided he had waited long enough. He felt the weight of his decision, walking slowly towards his prize. The shiny metal glistened in the sun; they were keys. Three of them, faint etchings in the metal too worn to decipher. He tucked them in his backpack, questions swirling in his mind. Should I give them back? The men’s voices carried in the distance. “It’s gonna be dark soon; he’s not gonna be happy if we come back empty-handed…”

A colder voice added, “Dude, fuck Briggs.”

The boy softly gasped, startled. The man had said a bad word.

As the boy made his way back, following the riverbank down the hill, the soft splashes of water soothed his racing heart. The world felt different every time he met new people, a reminder of the mystery surrounding him, an expansion of his horizon. What could the keys unlock? A smile crept onto his face despite the fear he had felt moments ago. A soft orange light was diffusing in the empty street, the broken buildings casting elongated shadows.

He climbed down the familiar slope towards a central building, Dog by his side. The white facade was a comforting sight against the impending twilight, and as he opened the heavy door, the familiar scent of dusty books welcomed him back. He felt a sense of safety, knowing he was home.

#

The stone hall was silent, save for the gentle echoes of small footsteps bouncing off its marble columns and high ceiling. It was a place of respite for the night. The building he had claimed was vast and abandoned, with many rooms he rarely visited, one he knew to avoid. Mostly, he kept to the space labelled “Carl Sagan Library” — which, in his mind, was his bedroom. He liked the smell of old books and the warmth of the wooden furniture.

The great wooden door creaked as he pulled on the worn copper handle. A soft light fell across the shelves below, rows and rows of books stretching into the shadows. From fantasy novels — his favourites — to philosophy essays, there were books about space, history, and even how to cook. He had explored most genres, but he still changed it up now and then, especially on rainy days. On those days, he would snuggle up with Dog, stay indoors, and draw dinosaurs, dragons, or imaginary friends. Sometimes, he’d build things out of cardboard or run laps around the room, Dog playfully trailing behind.

He passed his little art corner and the old chest where he stored his canned food from the “Donation Room”. The dimming light made him feel heavy with sleep, a weariness settling in. Dog padded slowly beside him. The boy patted his back, causing a screen to flicker to life, revealing a digital clock and a battery symbol with just a few bars left. He didn’t fully understand how Dog worked, but he had figured out that it gained energy when they explored during the day and lost it during the night — just the opposite from him. He pressed the small light symbol on the panel, and Dog began to emit a gentle bluish glow, enough to light their space. It usually helped the boy sleep.

Warm blankets draped the entrance to his fort, a cosy cocoon made of covers, cardboard and drawings, all nestled under a sturdy wooden desk. He dropped his bag and grabbed his notebook before crawling into his safe place. Lying in the blankets, he wrote his journal entry for the day — short and simple but filled with questions. Then, he reached for the heavy book beside his bed, opening the section marked “D”.

His finger traced down the page, brushing over the words until he found the right one.

“Doomed, adj.: certain to fail, die or be destroyed. Ex: This is a doomed city."

***