"The Last One" by Emma-Jane C. Smith

Traffic ceased, the eyes of the world stopped to look, the ears of the world listened.

The leader paused for effect and then continued in a softer, more alluring voice to the masses, “People of Earth, do not be afraid of death. It is the next step in our evolution. Each of us shall become gods, and all life will grow to know and worship us.”

"As a tribute to our old lives, the stars have granted us permission to leave behind DNA prints. Within these will the history of our race be saved, and what we were will be preserved. Hopefully when the Mighty is ready he will start humanity over again so that they might join us, too, in the afterplace when He deems it possible. Rejoice, my fellows, and on the last day of this month, we will all drink the holy wine, treated by the Mighty One, and join him in the realm of godhood.”

Rain poured down from the heavens onto what was left of the human race. Corpses littered the landscape, men and women sat in chairs, laid in beds or slumped where they fell. Children tucked up tight, colourful bedspreads to their chins, no breath expiring from their lips. All motionless and cold.

Rain fell like tears, slicking the cluttered landscape with sadness. All man’s creations sit immobile, dead. Streets empty, all lights extinguished. Nothing breathed and nothing felt, for nothing lived.

Except…

Hidden in the Bare Mountains, there lurked a lone figure staring out at the rest of the world, puzzled. No lights shone in the great city as she felt the night drawing deeply into her skin. The damp rain tried to cleanse her dust-covered body and stave off the night's encroaching darkness. It was unable to comfort her or rid her of the dread that emanated from her soul. Having never known a mother or father, having never known the company of another human being, having never ventured into the world inhabited by the others, she was innocent. Her eyes glinted in the moonlight but there was no one else to see.

Soon she would venture into the world of the dead, but for now her small world was complete and she knew nothing of what rested upon her small shoulders. For the fate of humanity lay with her, and her language-less state gave little hope for the future. Whatever discoveries she may make, she must grow to understand the sins of her predecessors before it is too late. Human life has been destroyed, all but one, and a thought whispers through the mountains on a sedate wind. Would it be so wise to start the world again? Do we deserve to live again after what we have done? Or would we make the same mistake, again, again, and again for all time?

For what makes us human also destroys us. Human nature is something we cannot escape.