THE FIFTH COLUMN
Seattle, Washington 12-24-2013
It's Christmas Eve, not that it matters much anymore, the thermometer reads minus 119 degrees but if feels every bit like minus 120, not very funny. It's getting harder to find things that will burn in the stove. The gale seems to be getting stronger every night after the sun goes down. I've kept a daily journal since the end of this world as it was known with the hope that if someone has survived, they might know what happened here. Why was I spared? It's been a very lonely existence, my wife and children are dead and nearest I can tell, every other human is gone, I've listened to the short wave day after day hoping to hear a voice, a sign of life, anything. There are no more clouds or rain, all the water is gone, the oceans are dry and the sun seems to get closer every day. It's 140 plus degrees mid day and minus 125 at night. The Radiation has long killed the plant and animal life and left me now, weaker by the hour. I'm guessing that the explosions have affected the earth's rotation. Anyway, this will be my last entry, God help us, as I pray for any unlucky living and damn the unholy dead. Stephen K. Hayes 12-24-2013 Seattle, Washington 07-06-2012 No one saw it coming, one minute humanity is doing what they always did, rushing to work, walking in the park, honking and cursing at each other in traffic, fishing in the sound, doing the things they had taken for granted for the better part of their lives. Then in not much more than an instant, mankind ceased to exist. The blasts shook the ground and rained glass and brick from the sky, thousands of young men and women the world over whom had been walking, observing and talking to strangers, turned and brutally tore and ripped their prey until all breath was gone. The sky was black from the massive infernos; people were running to their death into their killers arms not knowing that they had been personally marked by the Dragon. And when they were done, the earth was scorched and bloodied, the landscape was jagged with the shells of mans futile attempts at immortality. The Dragon The dragon is what he was revered as. He was a very quiet, almost unassuming creature; he never spoke but controlled his disciples with his dark, empty eyes. He wasn't a big man; in fact a person might imagine a being of his position would be much more imposing. He could have been anyone you might have met at the checkout line at the grocery. But the Dragon was a collector, a collector of souls, unwanted souls, souls thrown out with the garbage, the only family of children that would never be. And the dragon was a teacher with an age old book to close. Copyright stevesalteredreality.com and Assgasket Publishing all rights reserved
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