#apocalypse

I've always hated my job for one simple, yet insurmountable reason: nothing ever happens. Imagine spending nine hours. NINE freaking hours. Locked inside a concrete bunker, listening to the universe breathe into your head through an oversized pair of headphones. The higher-ups like to pretend this is some kind of essential service. That my job is somehow paramount to the advancement of the human race. It isn't.

I put on my running shoes with springs, designed to cushion the impact on the ground. It was my nightly ritual, something I did every single day without fail: running to the neighboring town, keeping my body busy and my mind free of thoughts. It was almost five o’clock, and the sun still stubbornly lingered in the sky, painting everything with a pale golden light.

The shining bright light of a VTOL passing by illuminates his apartment for just an instant through his shutters, the pitter-patter of the downpouring rain thankfully drowning out the deafening hum of its rotors. Still, the LED lights casting a bright blue hue throughout his entire home stir him awake, despite his best wishes not to be.

I stand in a dark room. It is very large and I can barely see the black outlines of the walls. Around me are golden cages which hang from the ceiling by long chains. Peering into them, I see the most peculiar objects; much like the strange ornate cages, gold glints through many of the bars. There are crowns, golden bars, sceptres with emeralds and other gems embedded in their hilts, golden necklaces and lockets amongst other things. One has bronze weighing scales. Other cages have bones in…

My name is Victor. I am a resident of a quiet village near which there was a forest, there were many stories and myths about it.

There was a new payphone in town, at least if you believe what some anonymous conspiracy theorist had posted on the internet. Someone on the local paranormal forum had posted photos of a payphone which, to be fair, was in fairly decent condition, and they had insisted it had been installed recently. More likely than not, it had been there for decades, and neither the poster nor anyone else had noticed it until recently. I’m pretty sure the only people who pay those things any mind anymore are…

Deep in the core of a dull, lightless city, a man sat alone by a fire. He didn’t know how long the world had been like this, he didn’t remember what it was like before, He only knew that he woke up to this one day. From what he could remember, Just faintly in the back of his mind, the world used to be filled with other people, other faces, but after days of wandering, months of searching, there was no familiar face to see. For now, the only company he had was the fire, and a few cans of beans…

Hello, Mother, I feel like tonight may be my last in these trenches, for better or worse. Last night the enemy pushed us back to the perimeter of the town we’ve been defending for the past three months. Unfortunately, I’m not sure how much longer we can hold out for. Reinforcements and supplies are two to three days out, I have two insta-chow syringes left and three and a half magazines to hold me through the next few nights. We have about two more hours of sunlight left. I’ll be sure to give…

For all readers…

In the late 18th century in upstate New York a pastor and his family; his wife, young daughter, maid and himself were all found dead inside their home. Cause of death was identified as quadruple suicide.

I need to be extremely clear to you that this is real. There is nothing fabricated in what I am about to tell you. There are what I can only describe as zombies out there, making their way to you right now.

It started suddenly. Autumn was coming to an end, the weather was rapidly deteriorating. Busy streets turned into canals filled with icy water and debris. Thin streams ran along the dirty walls and mixed with the long-term patina of rust. An atmosphere of decay, a thick, viscous feeling.

Nobody remembers when they appeared, some think they have been here since the beginning of time and space, or at least since the first human existed, others think they came into existence more recently. I personally don't care where they come from, or how they got here, I only really care about keeping myself alive.

In the murky confines of the Slums, a stray cat and its drone companion, B-12, scuttled along the endless expanse of labyrinthine alleys, the drone's light casting an eerie glow on the moss-ridden walls and dilapidated machinery. The cat, a feline anomaly in this mechanical world, surveyed their surroundings with gleaming eyes, ears perked to the distant hum of rusted gears and sputtering engines. B-12, his thrusters operating on silent, ensured they remained undetected by the wandering robotic…

Ryan had taken brief notice of the family of five that entered the mostly empty diner. This was his favorite place to go when reviewing business cases because it was quiet, usually empty between noon and late evening, and famous for their strawberry rhubarb pies. He’d done his best work here, and had come to the diner to study over a very lucrative business case.

We humans pride ourselves on being social creatures of moral thought. We thoroughly believe that we are superior compared to every other animal on the planet because we are able to perform action only based on morals. Charitable donations, helping the environment around us and simple acts of kindness present a portrait that we concern ourselves with the existence of others. And with that, we think ourselves better than creatures. But we’re not superior. The Un-rapture proved that.

Thursday morning. I awoke to the sounds of a siren blaring down the road. Great, another accident. The traffic was the last thing I wanted in the morning while going to work. Still, I had another hour before heading off, so I started my morning routine of taking a shower and brushing my teeth before heading downstairs for breakfast where I saw my son, Michael, eating cereal before breakfast. I grabbed a bagel and sat down on the couch, grabbing my iPad to read the news.

I don't know what's worse, the screams that ended a few weeks ago, or the silence that has fallen since then. Before, I felt like everything should be done to help others. Now, in my self-reflection, I don't know anymore.

She stalked the dark hallways of the school, making sure that she made no unnecessary sounds that would attract anyone. She had been following her Math teacher for a few minutes now and was positive that she had seen him wander into the school building.

Wipe your feet when you come inside. Cliché. Old school. Who does that anyways? Well, the shit your grandmother tells you isn’t always bad advice. Quite the contrary really. I’m about to tell you a story you won’t believe. A story that will never leave me. A story about what exactly happens when you don’t WIPE. YOUR. FEET. And please, whoever finds this, heed my advice. Read the story. It’s too late for me…