"Wah, wah, wah" - the people were running, each one grappling with the harsh reality that erased the distinctions of friends and family, leaving only the primal instinct to survive. Darkened monsters soared through the air, and some succumbed to the relentless onslaught of zombies. In one word, it can be said that the apocalypse began on this fateful day.
ONE DAY BEFORE THE APOCALYPSE
Dr. Murph: "It has been three months since my son fell into a coma. Do you think there's any chance he will wake up? I have no hope. Even if he does wake up, his bones—every bone—is crushed, 2-3 times minimum. He's disabled, you can't deny that. The government did nothing. Three years to punish those bastards for something like this. They all deserve to be shot, if you ask me. If I was there, I would have strangled them all one by one." At this, the man standing in front of the teenager broke into tears. "Is there nothing I can do?" he pleaded.
"I'm sorry," said Dr. Murph, "but it's the reality. All I can do now is keep an eye on him and administer painkillers if he wakes up. Go home; it's the most you can do now, sir."
11 HOURS BEFORE THE APOCALYPSE
"If I were there, son, if I were there first, my wife, now my son. What do you want from me, fucking life?" The man touched alcohol and started drinking from the bottle. "What do you want? Are you really that sad that your son is dying?" She chuckled.
When he turned around, the man saw a little girl who was exactly the same as his wife when she was a child. Shocked and fearful, the man fell down. "Marita? No, who the hell are you? What are you?" he stammered.
"Oh, dear, don't you remember your wife? It's me, Marita, your wife," she chuckled.
"No, you are dead. You died."
"Heh, nevermind. But I can save our child. Lucas, you want that, don't you?" The man was slient
"Soul, give me your soul, my dear."
"My soul? Who the fuck are you?"
"That's not important. Who I am doesn't match anything. I'm here to save our child. You just need to wish, my dear."
"Just wish?"
"Yeah, what do you want, dear?"
Silence.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT? SAY IT, MY DEAR."
"I...I..."
"Yeah?"
"I want my child to recover, and these fucking bastards to die in pain, to turn the day into an apocalypse for them."
With a devilish smile, the girl fell down, kissed the man, and said, "Deal. Let's start the show, dear, and kill the bastards who touched our son. Now you are here with me again, Marita."
"Tss, my dear, just sleep. Our son will be here for us soon. Just sleep, my dear."
As the man succumbed to the abyss of sleep, a sinister energy stirred in the shadows, echoing the unholy pact made with the mysterious girl. In the distance, the air seemed to thicken with malevolence, foretelling the impending cataclysm. Unbeknownst to the world outside, the prologue had unfolded, sealing the fate of a man whose name lingered in the shadows.
The night air hung heavy with an ominous stillness, and the distant howls of the approaching apocalypse reverberated through the silent corridors of fate. The stage was set, the survivors chosen, and the curtains drawn on the eve of the end. The countdown to oblivion had begun, and the world would soon bear witness to the consequences of a desperate plea from the depths of a broken heart and a devil's whispered promise.
HOSPITAL NIGHT
The hospital room was silent, bathed in the flickering glow of muted lights. Suddenly, a sharp sound cut through the air as a glass on the bedside table crashed to the floor. Startled, the night-shift nurses and a puzzled doctor rushed to investigate.
"What's happening in here?" the doctor inquired, entering the room with a quizzical expression.
They found Lucas, who had been ensconced in silent unconsciousness for months, now wide awake and writhing in pain. His small hand, once feeble, now clenched in agony, revealed mysterious tattoos that seemed to materialize before their eyes. Dark symbols etched across his skin, pulsating with an otherworldly energy.
Lucas gritted his teeth against the searing pain, unable to comprehend the origins of the haunting marks. The room seemed to respond to his distress, shadows dancing to an unearthly rhythm as if echoing his silent anguish.
As the medical staff exchanged perplexed glances, an ominous shadow detached itself from the corners of the room. Unseen and unheard, it moved with malevolent intent, silently snuffing out the life force of the night-shift nurses one by one.
The doctor's initial confusion twisted into horror as the shadowy entity manifested its deadly presence. Panic gripped the hospital as the chilling reality unfolded—the very shadows that danced to Lucas's torment now emerged as harbingers of demise, an unforeseen consequence of his awakening.
In the heart of the hospital's hushed corridors, the night-shift nurses fell to an unseen force, their lives extinguished in the relentless grip of the shadows. Lucas, still in throes of pain, remained unaware of the dark dance transpiring around him, an unwitting conductor of a macabre symphony that heralded the arrival of an unrelenting darkness.
As the horror extended beyond the confines of Lucas's room, the hospital corridors transformed into bloody hallways. The air became thick with the metallic stench of blood, mingling with the sickening sweetness of decay. The once-sterile walls now bore witness to gruesome scenes—the rooms meant for healing transformed into gruesome tableaus of carnage.
Blood smeared the walls, and the echoes of agonized screams reverberated through the corridor. Doctors, now grotesque remnants of humanity, wandered aimlessly, their heads severed, hands outstretched in eerie supplication. The shadows, once passive observers, now melded with the crimson chaos, dancing in macabre celebration.
Lucas's awakening had birthed not only shadows of death but also a visceral nightmare within the very heart of the hospital. The once-sanctuary for healing had morphed into a hellish tableau, a place where life had been replaced by the grotesque poetry of demise.