Let's write about the apocalypse today. Specifically, a zombie apocalypse. But I want you to write from the perspective of something inanimate, like an abandoned house or a tree, perhaps.
Lighthouse
I still call out to the sea every night - as if some solitary sailor may need warning away from the rocks. It is quiet now. Not that it was ever that busy but now its truly the definition of quiet. At first, they came and roamed through expecting to find a feast because I kept shining through the night. Very rude, the undead. Not even a courtesy knock before barrelling through the door. That was some... six, seven years ago? Time doesn't exactly mean much anymore.
Now I have a new nest at my base. Two people, making a home in hell. but I know its warm. The hordes avoid me now they know the light will keep shining night after night regardless. Steadfastness is a sanctuary - the lonely sentinel, become a the only safety these two may ever know. If only I could promise it would last... but they can rest, if only for a moment. That much I can give them. Occasionally, they sing quietly in the night. My two little sirens, calling out to ships that never sail.
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