"Mum, why is Santa in the sky? I thought he only came at Christmas," I asked my mum, my voice trembling with confusion and disbelief.
With a quick glance at the clock, my mother's face contorted into a mixture of worry and urgency. "What do you mean, Nikolas?" she responded, her words rushed and her movements frantic. "I'm already running late for work. Please don't make me any later," she pleaded, her eyes darting between me and the clock.
"Nikolai shouted to me that Santa is floating in the sky. He said it was up high, and when I went to check, I saw it. But Nikolai was gone, probably to get a closer look," I explained, my voice growing more urgent as I tried to convey the magnitude of the situation.
A look of concern washed over my mother's face, momentarily overshadowing her own worries. "What nonsense are you..." she began to say, her voice trailing off as a wave of unease washed over her.
"And then there was this grotesque figure, holding a trumpet in his hands," I exclaimed, my voice quivering with fear and disbelief.
Fear seized my mother's heart, overpowering her usual composed demeanor. "STAY HERE! I'M GOING TO GET YOUR BROTHER! KEEP YOUR BIBLE WITH YOU, NIKOLAS!" she screamed, her panic palpable as she rushed out of the room, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.
I approached my Bible, hands trembling, ready to seek solace in its pages. But just as my fingertips were about to connect with its worn cover, an intense rumble shook the very ground beneath me. Tears welled up in my eyes, uncertain whether this was an earthquake or something far more sinister. In the midst of my distress, the Bible slipped from my mind, and I dashed to the home phone, desperately seeking connection in a world spiraling into chaos. I dialed my father's number repeatedly, each ring filled with mounting desperation. But as he finally answered, a piercing trumpet blast erupted from the receiver, drowning out his voice and filling the air with haunting screams and deranged laughter. Horrified, I flung the phone to the ground, its shattered pieces mirroring the shattered fragments of my reality.
I rushed to the window, my heart pounding in my chest, desperate for a glimpse of my mother's familiar face. Yet, as I peered into the darkened sky, an unnerving sight greeted me. The once-familiar figure of Santa had transformed, revealing its true form—a nightmarish entity with sinister horns adorning its head. Doubt and disbelief waged a battle within my mind. Was this all some twisted dream, or had the inconceivable become our stark reality?
In a state of terror, my gaze fell upon a nearby sack, unknowingly releasing a deluge of demons into the world. They manifested in grotesque forms, contorted and twisted, a nightmare's collection of distorted creatures. Their putrid flesh bore scars of their malevolence, oozing with repulsive fluids. The air itself grew heavy with their nauseating stench, suffocating my senses. Overwhelmed by the grotesque tableau before me, I succumbed to the overwhelming darkness, my consciousness fading into oblivion, consumed by a mixture of revulsion and fear.
...
"What do we do with him?" a man's voice interjected, filled with uncertainty and hesitation.
"Throw him out, of course. He's just a child," a woman's voice replied dismissively, devoid of empathy. "I've already checked his house. He's only 7 years old, and he has a twin. You know how children can be, especially with siblings. He'll do nothing but cry and disturb us. There's no way he could fight in this war," she asserted, her voice laced with conviction.
The man's face displayed a hint of concern, grappling with the weight of their decision. "But what if he wakes up while I'm doing so?" he questioned, a mix of apprehension and doubt lingering in his tone.
"Execute him," the woman declared coldly, her words devoid of mercy or remorse.
Before I could fully comprehend the gravity of their conversation, the man bound me tightly to a horse, ensuring my immobility. With calculated precision, he instilled fear into the animal, provoking it with loud noises and harsh commands. The horse, now a vessel of panic and frenzy, bolted forward in a frenetic gallop. As I was carried away by this tumultuous ride, my mind raced, memories of a life before the chaos flooding my thoughts. Amidst the chaos and confusion, a fragment of a memory emerged—a recollection of my mother's words, speaking of the prophecies found within the Book of Revelation. She had mentioned a time when the righteous would be lifted from the Earth, ascending to the heavens, while those who had not embraced goodness would remain for a span of seven years. After this period, they would be given an opportunity to seek redemption or face the abyss of damnation.
In the midst of my fear and uncertainty, a question haunted my thoughts: Was I truly deserving of such a fate? Had I truly been so irredeemable that I would be left behind in the wake of this calamity?
And so it came to pass that on this sombre day, the 17th of May 2043, I lost not only my mother, father, and brother but also the very essence of my existence, as the world around me descended into darkness.