IT WAS A NIGHT OF BLOOD

It was a night of blood.

From the graves rose the rotting bodies. They had defied the laws of nature. As a part of their punishment, they were ordered to collect the living beings who had deceived as they had deceived. They took no prisoners. There was not a white sheet anywhere that wasn't covered in blood.

The innocents closed their eyes in horror. They never knew that their fathers or their mothers or their husbands or their wives or their children were capable of such heinous behavior. They averted glancing behind them, so they wouldn't be turned into salt. From Sodom and Gomorrah they ran and never looked back at those loved ones whose hearts had been ripped out of them.

I was one of the few condemned to pay for his transgression who managed to escape, but as I live my life on the fringes, I am covered with scars and I have wounds that never stop bleeding.

I would have been better off if I had been slaughtered like all the rest, but unlike the others who had delivered themselves to decadence because they had forsaken their souls, I had never surrendered and had kept a hope that I might still be saved. I had seen a light before the darkness had descended upon us and I was drawn to its purity.

I had never known purity in my life. From my earliest memories there had been alcohol, drugs and sex. There was no peace. There was only the cheap thrill to maintain one's sordid passage from day to day.

On the day of the apocalypse, I was following the light, which saved me from that frightful fate. But as I distanced myself from the carnage behind me, the light disappeared.

I have sought refuge in a solitary existence. I eat lightly, I walk miles each day and I slowly breathe in and out. And each night before I collapse into my troubled sleep, I search the skies for the light. And it's never there. I will die alone. My skeleton will vanish in the enveloping foliage.