And Then There Were Demons

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.