Andrew’s Journey: Finding Light in the Dark
The sun sank beneath the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and crimson as the city descended into its nightly chaos. Andrew sat in his dim apartment, his computer screen glowing faintly in the dark. He had spent years like this, tethered to his desk, a bottle of SSRIs his constant companion. Diagnosed with ADHD and depression, his life had been reduced to a series of prescriptions and recommendations to "focus on tasks that stimulate the brain." For Andrew, that meant endless hours of video games, punctuated by brief ventures outside to pick up food or refill his prescriptions.
Life in the city was predictable. Sterile. Artificial. But beneath the surface of his numbed existence, Andrew felt a gnawing unease—a primal whisper that things were not as they should be. When the electric grid failed, the city spiraled into chaos faster than anyone could have anticipated. At first, it was only a temporary blackout. Then days passed, and the hum of machines that had lulled society into complacency vanished. Grocery stores, unable to process payments or keep food refrigerated, became battlegrounds. The police, overwhelmed and under-resourced, retreated to protect key government buildings and enforce mandates from unseen global powers.
As days turned into weeks, desperation clawed at the city's inhabitants. Toilets overflowed, the stench of filth filled the air, and starvation drove once-civilized people to unspeakable acts. Andrew watched it all unfold from his window. The pharmacy had been looted within hours of the grid's collapse, and his SSRIs were gone. At first, the withdrawal left him reeling: nausea, insomnia, and an overwhelming flood of emotions he hadn’t felt in years. But something else began to stir within him—a sharp, heightened awareness of the danger surrounding him.
When the first reports of cannibalism reached him, Andrew knew he had to leave. The city had become a prison, its inhabitants devouring each other like rats in a cage. One night, under the cover of darkness, he packed a small bag: a knife, a crossbow he had impulsively purchased years ago, a coil of rope, and a bottle of water. His hands shook as he slipped out of the building and made his way to the forest on the outskirts of the city.
The forest was a world apart, its stillness broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. At first, Andrew felt utterly lost. He had never camped a day in his life, let alone hunted or foraged. But necessity became his teacher. Using the rope, he set up crude snares to catch small animals. He learned to make fire with flint and dry twigs, the warmth and light a lifeline in the cold, dark nights. His crossbow became an extension of himself, and with time, he became adept at stalking and taking down prey. Rabbits, squirrels, and the occasional deer sustained him. He learned to skin and butcher his catches, drying the meat to preserve it for the harsh winter.
In the solitude of the forest, Andrew began to notice the intricacies of God’s creation. The way the trees whispered secrets to the wind, the delicate patterns of frost on fallen leaves, and the endless dance of stars in the night sky. Each day brought new challenges, but also a profound sense of purpose. He no longer felt the crushing weight of despair that had once driven him to pills and screens. Out here, every action had meaning: finding water, building shelter, staying alive.
Meanwhile, the cities rotted. Criminal gangs seized control, and loyalty to a shadowy elite became the currency of survival. Drones patrolled the skies, enforcing obedience to mandates that promised food and safety in exchange for a mark—a symbol of allegiance that allowed access to the remaining scraps of civilization. But the price was too high. Those who took the mark became little more than slaves, their every move monitored and controlled.
Andrew watched from a distance, hidden in the safety of the forest. He had no intention of returning to that world. His hypervigilance, once a curse in the city, became a gift in the wild. He could sense danger before it arrived, moving through the trees like a ghost. He built a crude but sturdy shelter in a cave, stocked with dried meat and fresh water from a nearby stream. The forest became his sanctuary, a place where he could finally hear the voice of God—not in words, but in the rhythms of creation.
As winter set in, Andrew marveled at how far he had come. The man who had once relied on pills and distractions to survive was now thriving in a world stripped bare of modern comforts. The depression and anxiety that had plagued him in the city seemed like distant memories. Out here, life was raw and unforgiving, but it was also real. Every breath, every heartbeat, was a testament to God’s grace.
Andrew knew he was one of the few who had escaped. The cities, once centers of progress and human ingenuity, had become tombs. Those who survived were either enslaved or consumed by the madness of their own making. But in the forest, Andrew found a freedom that no machine or government could take away. He had been broken by the artificial world of man, but he was remade by the wild, where God’s hand was evident in every leaf and stone.
For the first time in his life, Andrew felt truly alive.