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Diseased World


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Fire and brimstone. The words repeating  constantly throughout his skull, rebounding amongst the twisted corridors of his mind. It had become all he knew when the world had ended. But that wasn't true. I knew of other things. Of Flesh, torn asunder, by people he once knew; the people now mockeries of life, their decaying meat revealing bloodied grins, hungering for my own skin. I ran for so long. But you can only run so far, until you realize there isn't anywhere left. Today I made my newest home in the crumbling corpse of what was once a great skyscraper, now a perfect haven from the hordes of the plague-ridden. I crept into my cot, falling into slumber at the burning skies, as ash darkened them, beckoning night.

 

  My body awoke to screams. I hesitated, self-preservation had become my savior despite the sin; the other Savior I knew abandoned me long ago. But, acting on what was left of a moral compass, I rushed from my hiding spot onto a nearby stairway, and begun the descent, hoping I would not be too late.

 

  Adrenaline fueling me, I gathered in the gory scene; blood caked the floor, and several of the unholy creatures strove for a being in the back of the dim hallway. I gripped my only weapon, a lengthy steel bar, whittled into a razor edge, equipped with crosspiece and grip, a regular sword of ages past hand built by my weathered hands. The sharpened metal edge cleaved through bodies and skulls, brain matter and bone fragments began to fly in my wake. Each of the hungry souls lusted after my flesh, and I met their avarice with its only mode of satisfaction, free entry into abyss.

 

  Finally I breached the mosh of undead, reaching my goal, a young girl, whose wails had all but died, thanks to a series of gaping wounds, bit deep into her flesh. I was too late. Dropping to my knees, as darkness worked its way into my muscles and bones, beckoning me to sleep endlessly and join this young child, promising me an end to the misery I was forced to experience each day. But what little humanity in me flickered, causing me to reach out, close her eyes, the beginning of a process of burial I'd carried out one too many times in the latest years.

 

  Bloodied hands touched her pallid face, only for the eyes to erupt open, blue light streaming from newly re-awakened sight, as one more starving mouth leapt forward, sinking into the flesh of my hand and scraping across bone, mere moments before I could silence her with a stroke of cold iron. Such pain as I'd never known crashed amongst my senses, eliciting a primal scream, brought forth from the deepest wells of agony in my hollowed body, viral infection now coursing throughout my veins, unto my heart. Oh how I yearned for abyss before disease could take my mind. Such thought sparked action, and I raised my sword shakily, dissecting the offending hand from forearm, perhaps it would be enough to stop infection. Thus so, I kicked away the truly dead girl, and stood frailly upon my feet, as blood spurted from my wound. I eased towards my hideaway, hoping to medicate myself, but upon arrival, I collapsed, as darkness embraced me.

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