Imagine that you are the last person left on the earth. There is a knock at the door… Be sure to write in MLA format! 12pt Times New Roman Font, double spaced, and 1” margins.

Question

Who is your intended audience?
What genre will you choose?
What point of view will you use? (1st person limited, 1st person omniscient, 3rd person)
Where will your story take place?
Who are your main characters? List them, and provide some initial details. What do they look like? What are their characteristics?
Write on an 8th grade level.

Answer 1

Last Knock

[Your Name]
[Instructor's Name]
[Course Name]
[Date]

“Thump. Thump. Thump.” The sound echoed through the empty house. I froze, my heart racing. Was I really alone? I, the last person on Earth, living in this decaying shell of a home, was suddenly reminded of the world I once knew.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the dusty floorboards of my living room. It had been weeks since I last saw another soul. My days were filled with scavenging for food and reminiscing about the laughter that filled this house before everything went silent. As I stared at the door, I felt a mix of hope and dread. Who could be knocking at my door? Was it a figment of my imagination or perhaps a ghost from my past?

My intended audience for this story is young adults and middle schoolers who enjoy stories of suspense and adventure. The genre will be speculative fiction, as it explores possibilities beyond our current reality. I will be using the first-person limited point of view, allowing readers to see the world through my eyes and experience my emotions and thoughts directly.

The story takes place in a small, isolated house on the outskirts of a once-bustling town. The house was once painted a cheerful yellow, but now, faded paint chips hung precariously from the walls, and weeds sprouted through the cracks in the driveway. The town beyond was overgrown, nature reclaiming what humanity had left behind.

As for the main character—me—I am a young adult in my early twenties. I have shaggy brown hair that is always disheveled from my days spent rummaging around. My clothing is a mix of whatever I could scavenge: a tattered sweatshirt and worn-out jeans. I often feel lonely, but my determination to survive in this lonely world keeps me going. I am cautious yet curious, and the knocking at the door is the first sign of life I’ve experienced in what feels like an eternity.

As the knocking continues, each thud feels louder and heavier. I step cautiously across the room, my heart pounding against my chest. I glance out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever it might be. There’s no one in sight—just the gray horizon that stretches endlessly.

“Who’s there?” I call out, my voice trembling. Silence hangs heavily in the air, interrupted only by the soft rustle of wind outside. But then, the knocking returns, more insistent. In that moment, I know I have a choice: I can continue hiding in this haunted shell of a home, or I can embrace the unknown that lies beyond my door.

With trembling hands, I grasp the doorknob, taking a deep breath. Maybe this knock means I’m not as alone as I thought. Maybe it’s a chance for something new. I turn the knob slowly, preparing myself for whatever—or whoever—awaits me on the other side.