Thursday, March 20, 2014
The world as we knew it had ended. There was no warning. If there were, I had missed it.
The apocalypse was not one of cleansing fire. From where I was, it was a ringing emptiness.
I remember yelling and screaming that it was all a bad dream, and that I wanted things to go back the way they were. But my mind said that it was not a dream.There was no going back.
And I just yelled some more.
Presently I found myself opening the front door.
People were shuffling aimlessly outside. My heart was beating so fast as my body tensed, fight or flight kicking in.
I ran out.
My feet turned to lead.
I didn't get very far until one of them got me.
Then I was dead.
And then, through a haze of surprising half-consciousness, I saw the other undead, shambling my way.
No threat now. We were one.
I saw mothers. And children.
They were moaning.
Then I realized why they moan.
They do not moan because they want to scare the living.
They moan because they do not want to be undead.
The moaning is a cry for help.
But no one listens.
No one can help.
And then there were demons.
A small one was taunting me. Sitting next to my head.
The other - a bigger, silver-blue one - held onto me as it stabbed tines into my side.
Over and over.
Then it leered, and thought - rather than said - that it was going to stab me for all eternity.
Then I woke up.