Friday, March 20, 2015
An explosion made my head numb. The house shook hard. Then silence.
I couldn't move for hours.
Then the sound. A low beating, like marching, started in the distance.
Now... it's outside my window.
It's like people shuffling their feet along the pavement. It's mixed with some kind of clicking.
I cracked the curtain, and looked out.
It's people. They are flowing down the street in a thick mass. Hundreds. The people that fall, never get up. They are ground into the pavement from the relentless footsteps, now on top of them. Their blood is turning everything red.
They don't look right.
They don't move right.
The clicking is their teeth. Their mouths are opening and closing like they are eating, but they're not.
They look dead.
They are gathering under the power lines in the park. There are thousands. The lines are humming loudly, and getting louder.
I'm not moving.
Friday, March 13, 2015
I can see my breath.
I'm the only one who can claim her body.
I thought morgues were clean. It's dirty.
She's waiting in the corner of the room. On a cart. Mixed in with other dead people.
Their faces are covered. Her's is not. It looks like rubber. There is cotton in her mouth. I can see it through the stitches trying to hold her lips closed.
I reached under the fabric covering her body, and touched her hand one last time. I felt long finger nails.
I always told her not to bite her nails. She bit them bloody. The hand I touched, had nails like an old dog. Thick and curled.
I lifted the sheet higher and followed up her arm.
It's not attached.
It's not her arm.
It's different skin.
The man who let me in, still had his back to me. I lifted the sheet even more. The legs were different, too. Shriveled old man legs. Too small for her large body. They rested inches away from her torso. I could see the bone.
I need to leave. I need to get help.
I am sweating. I feel like I am going to fall. My ears are echoing.
The man is now watching me.
He is smiling, as only a monster can.