My name is Gabriel, and there is no story within me that is my own.
There is only a catalogue of my surroundings, the words and deeds of others.
And beneath all that, there sits only a hunger that could swallow the world.
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IN THE TIME BEFORE THE STORM
๐๐บ ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต, ๐ฅ๐ฐ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ข ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฎ?
๐๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ต ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ณ๐ถ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ฆ๐บ๐ฆ๐ด? ๐๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฃ๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ต๐ข๐ด๐ต๐ฆ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ท๐ช๐ค๐ต๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ? ๐๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ข๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ถ๐ค๐ฉ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ; ๐ธ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐บ ๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ฎ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ต?
๐๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ, ๐ด๐ถ๐ณ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐บ ๐ด๐ถ๐ค๐ฉ ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ซ๐ฐ๐บ๐ด, ๐ธ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ง๐ช๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฃ๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ด๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ญ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ช๐ณ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ง๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฎ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ'๐ท๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ, ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ด๐ฐ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐จ?
๐ ๐ต๐ณ๐ถ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ, ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ต๐ต๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐จ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐ญ๐ถ๐ฆ๐ด, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ต๐ณ๐ถ๐ฆ.
๐๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐ด๐ฐ ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ, ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ข๐ต๐ฉ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ต๐ธ๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ท๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ต ๐ฎ๐ฆ, ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต ๐ข ๐ฑ๐ข๐ด๐ด๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ๐ต.
๐๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐ถ๐ค๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ.
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It was winter. Grey, cold, stagnant and beautiful.
My apartment lay a mess, dirty clothes strewn across the floor. Whatever clean washing I had was left piled up on a chair in the corner of the room. As habit, I roused without an alarm to the dull light of midday.
Dreary from a handful of sleeping pills the night before, I forced myself through fatigue and pushed myself up and out of bed. Cracked lips, breath hot and foul. A dull headache pinned to my forehead. Each new step more a stumble. I made my way towards the bathroom and within, I saw my reflection in the mirror, and the thing I saw stared back.
Pale skin, like porcelain. Sharp chin, stubble, eyes a deep blue pit that gave nothing and said nothing. No wrinkles, despite nearing thirty; no laugh lines or creases in the brow. The creature that stood across from me had flecks of white in its dark hair and a disgusting layer of fat around the stomach.
I squeezed the fat and shook it in my hands, before looking back at the thing in the reflection.
Pretty, I thought. Not traditionally handsome, but a sharp yet soft face. Androgynous, on the side of masculine.
Expressionless it stared at me, and I stared back, burning the image to memory before the sound of my phone ringing in the kitchen pulled me away.
"Gabriel speaking!" My cheery voice filled the room.
"Gabe, hi," a man's voice said. "I hope you're well. Look, mate, it's Tyler. I have some bad news - Mana Industries have filled the role."
"Oh!" I said, smile etched on my face. I took a deep breath and continued: "Hey no worries, Tyler, I understand. These things happen. I'll just continue sending out those applications."
"Mate, I'm in your corner. You know that, right? I've got some more opportunities coming up around the corner, believe me. And you'll be the first person I recommend, okay?"
"I know, you've been great."
"Actually, I have something here. Not quite matching the experience you have, but look, I'll send you the PD and you adjust your resume to fit the role. That is, if you're interested, of course. Send it through to me and I'll flick it over to them."
"Always interested when rent's due."
Tyler's laugh echoed across the line. "Yeah, too right. Too right. Anyway mate, you take care, I'll flick it through now."
The muscles in my face relaxed and the smile I carved faded into a composed dispassion. "Take care, Tyler."
And with that, I terminated the call.
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THE DAY BEFORE THE STORM
๐ ๐ง๐ฆ๐ญ๐ต ๐ข ๐ต๐ถ๐จ ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ถ๐ฑ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ช๐ต.
๐๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ ๐ด๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ง๐ฆ๐ญ๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ข๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ. ๐๐ต ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ฉ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฆ๐น๐ฑ๐ญ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ, ๐ข๐ด ๐ช๐ง ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ญ๐ช๐ต๐บ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฅ ๐ช๐ต๐ด ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฌ๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ; ๐ข ๐ด๐ญ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ค๐ฉ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ช๐ค ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ญ๐ญ, ๐ญ๐ช๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ช๐ณ ๐ข๐ณ๐ฎ๐ด ๐ธ๐ณ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ข๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฏ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฃ๐ข๐ค๐ฌ๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด. ๐๐ข๐บ๐ด ๐ด๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ด๐ฐ ๐ค๐ญ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ, ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ข๐ฏ๐บ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐บ.
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Time passed and, as it was, only the mundane strung each day together in a series of woven moments.
I forced myself awake, I choked down food and water, I haphazardly stumbled through the afternoon as I always did. My computer desk sat beside my bed, littered with empty cans of energy drinks. Sugar-free, of course. It's where I'd spend my time until the early hours of the morning.
It wasn't that I was depressed, more that I never had any place in society to function. My dreams were grandiose, my thoughts filled with adventure and purpose. When I tried to speak on them, my peers awkwardly smiled and reminded me of the journey that lay before someone who wanted as much as I did.
They said: "it's nice to have dreams, but don't forget to have a day job. If everything fails, you at least will have something to fall back on."
But, what they never seemed to understand, is I cared not for security. I cared not about living a standard life and buying a house and having a family and saving pennies to avoid catastrophes or go on budget trips. I wanted. And that - in the sake of honesty - was who I was. Want. Insatiable want.
For a child that grew up with as little as I did, it didn't seem to me that great a problem. After all, when even love is a rare and fleeting commodity, one will desire anything to take hold of before it eventually fades away. Even if that created within me a bottomless pit of longing.
codeChat: Yo, Gabe, you finally awake?
The distinct pop of Discord played through my headset. I opened the app, responding without hesitation to the faceless person I entrusted so much of what was left of myself to.
writtenwinter: Well I did go to bed at like 4 in the morning playing with you, haha. But yeah, awake.
codeChat: any news on the job front?
writtenwinter: unfortunately, no. Just my luck to study software just as the market for engineers collapses after a decade of demand.
codeChat: don't beat yourself up.It's tough for everyone at the moment. Why don't we use this time right now to play some games, chat shit, and enjoy this freedom while you still have it?
writtenwinter: that sounds really nice. TBH, I wish I could just do this permanently, haha. Anyway, I was thinking maybe tonight we could voice call while we play? It feels like we've known each other forever.
codeChat: haha - maybe on the weekend. I'll think about it.
writtenwinter: fine, fine. I'm ready anyway
codeChat: let's go :)
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THE DAY OF THE STORM
In hindsight, it should have been obvious how non-standard the day was when it happened.
I woke, as usual. I pottered and bided my time, waiting until night to fall as I sipped at energy drinks. But while my mind sat focused on the evening and my time with [codeChat], something deeper and unknown scratched at the corner of my mind.
An uneasy distraction.
For reasons even I couldn't comprehend, I started cleaning. Doing chores I'd avoided for weeks; some I'd avoided for months. It took nearly two hours to clean and the winter air, carrying with it an unusual chill, settled in the apartment.
Going to close the door, I glanced through the window and was greeted by a somber sheet of dark clouds. Once again, unease gripped me, but I stared up at it unable to articulate my emotions.
Shaking my head, I settled down at my desk and pulled up Reddit. Frontpage, identical posts - one after another. My body froze as I scrolled. A freak event had captured the world's attention.
It wasn't a global catastrophe by any means, but significant still: the planet was blanketed by a thick sheet of clouds from the south to the north to the west to the east. Not a single ray of light pierced the obsidian shroud.
"What the fuck," I said under my breath.
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THE STORM
๐๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ๐บ ๐ธ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ธ๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ต ๐ถ๐ฑ? ๐๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฅ๐ด? ๐๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ด๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ด? ๐๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ด๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ด? ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฆ?
๐๐ข๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ข ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ?
๐'๐ฎ ๐ค๐ฆ๐ณ๐ต๐ข๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ. ๐๐ฐ๐ณ, ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต, ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ฉ๐ถ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ๐ด ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ช๐ท๐บ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ง๐ข๐ฃ๐ณ๐ช๐ค ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐บ - ๐ช๐ง ๐ด๐ถ๐ค๐ฉ ๐ข ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ธ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ณ๐ถ๐ฆ, ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ธ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ค๐ฆ๐ณ๐ต๐ข๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐บ ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ด๐ช๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ, ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ต๐ต๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ข๐ด๐ฌ ๐จ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ถ๐ด, ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ๐ด๐ฆ๐ญ๐ท๐ฆ๐ด ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ณ๐ถ๐ช๐ฏ.
๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฌ, ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ, ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ช๐จ๐ช๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ. ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ด๐ถ๐ณ๐ท๐ช๐ท๐ข๐ญ.
๐๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ญ๐ช๐ท๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ต๐ช๐ญ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ต ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ข ๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ, ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ง๐ช๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ต ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ข๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐บ. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐ถ๐จ๐จ๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ญ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ข ๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐ข๐ฏ๐จ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ช๐จ๐ฏ ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฎ. ๐๐ถ๐ต ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ข๐ฏ ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต, ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ฉ๐ถ๐ฏ๐จ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ด๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ช๐ค๐ช๐ต๐บ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ข๐ค๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ. ๐๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฆ๐ง๐ง๐ช๐ค๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐บ, ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ.
๐๐ฐ ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฌ ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐จ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ๐ด๐ฆ๐ญ๐ท๐ฆ๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฌ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฑ ๐ถ๐ด ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ต๐ณ๐ช๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ท๐ช๐ด๐ช๐ฃ๐ญ๐ฆ, ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐ข๐ณ๐ค๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ, ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐จ๐ญ๐ถ๐ต๐ต๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ด ๐๐ฐ๐ฅ.
๐๐ถ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ๐ช๐ต๐บ ๐ฎ๐ข๐บ ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ง๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด ๐ข๐ด ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐จ ๐ข๐ด ๐ช๐ต ๐ง๐ข๐ช๐ญ๐ด ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ข๐ฅ๐ข๐ฑ๐ต.
๐๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ข๐ฅ๐ข๐ฑ๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต, ๐ช๐ด ๐ค๐ฉ๐ข๐ฏ๐จ๐ฆ.
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The most vivid memory of that time lay in the moments leading up to the tragedy that would befall so many, heralded by the first crash of thunder.
It was unlike any I had heard; a flash of light bright enough to blind you even if you were looking away, followed by a sound so violent it ripped through my apartment. I was certain that a bomb had gone off somewhere on the streets below. The world shook; the stiff hairs on my neck stood to attention.
A war? I thought. But why us? We're a nothing-country of hills and mounds and grassland.
But the wrath from the heavens above continued without pause.
No, I realised, this was no war.
At least not one that was fought on the terms of us mere humans.
It was a storm. One so great that the shockwaves of each clap of thunder sent my head into a spin and the lights of my apartment flickering. I could hear cries and shrieks from outside my apartment and dogs in the distance howled in a frenzy of panic.
I tried to get my bearings, scrambling to reach for my mobile but it was too late. The power went out.
And there, at that moment, I realised the sheer scale of the situation.
Darkness. True, unfettered darkness.
Where only minutes before the faint evening light had washed the city in an orange glow, only a blanket of nothingness remained. A rich and dense darkness. One that seemingly swallowed all it touched.
I peered out my window and my stomach sank. Even the sky itself was no more, replaced with a starless and horrifying abyss of void and blackness, despair and emptiness.
And it was within the pit above, that I glanced the occasional and savage jolts of lightning that looked as if they would tear our world apart.
Then I felt it. That persistent niggling feeling, the slight tug. My head spun. My mouth was dry. Every fiber of my being was screaming out to run.
I spun around desperate and afraid, trying to peer into the darkness of my apartment but I was alone accompanied only by the sharp sounds of my breath, and the crackling thunder that shook me.
And then, it all went quiet.
Death.
I'm dying.
No, no, no. I haven't done anything. I haven't achieved anything. Pleaseโฆ Please, please, please. Let me live.
I begged and begged, but as it was, and always had been in my life, no one answered. No one came. There was never going to be a saviour. I was alone, as always, and now certain of my demise.
Godโฆ pl-
Like being hit by a strong gust of wind, I was torn from standing and thrown out into a bright green light.
Whatever God lived in our world never heard the end of my prayer. A silent and feeble cry for help. The last proof of my existence. A life lived and left without a mark.
-ease save me.
I finished my prayer in the sunlight, arms spread out to my side, resting on dirt and moss. The trees above let beautiful rays of hope and light filter through, warming my body.
Is thisโฆ?
I shook my head and glanced to my right and then left.
A forest?
Taking stock of what I knew, I did what I did best: I thought and observed.
Afreakstorm.greenlight.sunlightabove.forestaroundme.bodystillintact.eyeswork.breathingsteady.stillalive.stillherephysically.dullpain.notadream.heaven?no.painsuggestsnot.hell?teleported?summoned?maybe.asecondchance.findfood.findwater.stayalive.civilisation?dontholdouthope.focusonstayingalive.no.secondchance.focusonadapting.focus.adapt.focus.learn.adapt.adapt.adapt.
Adapt!
Never would I allow myself such weakness, I thought. I will make my mark. I will not let this go to waste.
My name is Gabriel and I have no story that is my own.
But I will adapt. I will survive. I will become strong.
There will be nothing to stop my hunger.
I shall become death.
And I shall finally live.