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The Great War

The great war begins and for those unaware of what’s really going on, it’s not more than confusing chaos and unexplained horrors left and right.

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Black leafless trees as far as the eye can see. Like a forest fire ravaged existence itself. Red skies plague a dark aura over all that is left. Dark daylight is as bright as a moment gets. The dirt beneath my boots crumbles like glass crackling under my weight. The great war merely strolled through here. In less than a week the entire state fell. The bunker managed to keep us safe in the meantime. There’s nothing but the aching screams echoing through the air left lingering. Entire buildings up and vanished into the chaos.

My grandmother always said the rapture would arrive without warning. It would just be here one day. And it seems that’s what took place.

One moment I’m at my first day at the office unpacking my things and getting settled in to the desk of a tragedy passed. The next moment my window view witnesses what I can only described as giant winged people attacking a tiny record store across the street. Within seconds their numbers are in the hundreds, then thousands. They’re popping out of nowhere and everywhere at once.

Appearing human but different at the same time. Warped and changed in ways I can’t put my finger on but for whatever reason I’m aware of. “Angels,” everyone keeps screaming. But they don’t look the part to me. They’re close enough, but can’t be. Not like this.

A deafening scream the size of the planet destroys the windows on all the buildings and like an explosion I’m tossed to the back of my office and pass out. When I regain consciousness I rush to the window to see the sky turned red and the winged beings were in short numbers. Patrolling.

Back in the hallway from my office, few remaining members of the staff are still present. Huddled into corners with candles praying to God for forgiveness.

The building rattles on my way down the pitch black stairwell. The power to the entire facility is gone. Too scared to confront the creatures outside I head for the tunnel to the fallout shelter in the basement where only fifteen other people are huddled with two more prepping to barricade the entrance. Explosions and crashing fill the levels above us. The survivors on those floors could be heard screaming down to the basement. The creatures got inside.

Three days we spent in complete silence waiting for the torturous demonic screams to end. And all but the ambient evil scream of the planet remained. Like hell itself had risen to earth. A scream that originated from everywhere, the even the bunker itself.

Once it was deemed safe enough to go outside, we opened the shelter hatch. Dirt falls in from above and the dark light from the sky hits us. The entire building is missing. The entire city is missing. Only the trees dried and dead remain. All the concrete gone. Only the dirt, rough like giant chunks of sand crystallizing remain. And we walk our separate ways off into the limbo left behind.

Now I’m left wondering if we might have died in that time and this is hell I stare at.