An End

I write this in the hope that it will eventually reach someone, anyone.

The apartment building has been taken over. I would explain by what, but I simply cannot comprehend what it is I saw out there in the hallway. I think it was human shaped. It was scratching at my neighbor’s door, simply tearing into it like scissors through paper. It’s face w—

Oh God, it’s face. I can’t think about it without shaking. Its face wasn’t there, not in the way that a face can physically be present. There were features, but they seemed like the vague memories of a dream. A mist of eyes that could see through me. More mouths than I could count, and they moved. Mouths everywhere, moving up and down the creature’s body.

I closed my door and locked it as quickly as I could. In that moment, I could hear the shredding of my neighbor’s door end, and the screaming began. There were multiple voices, and one by one, they were silenced, only moments apart.

I went to my window and saw more shapes in the darkness. A vaguely canine shape floating above the ground; a girl of perhaps fourteen with her eyes removed, black ichor leaking from her empty sockets. A crawling mass of bugs in the horrible shape of a man, writhing in pain. Hanging from one of the few nearby trees was another one of my neighbors. He was tied upside down, his mouth covered in tape. Children were taking turns beating him like he was a piñata, giggling as they swung their bats. With a horrible tearing sound, I heard the poor man finally break. The children squealed with delight, and began to dig through the treasure he had spilled.

I closed the curtains, and moved my couch in front of the patio door. I could only hope none of the forms had seen me.

Oh no.

I can hear the tearing sound at my door. The thing has decided it was my turn.

I’m going to keep typing while I can, while I still have internet connection. The cell towers are down; I have no idea if the same thing is happeneing to my friends, my family.

The tearing has stopped. I can make out a dark form at the edge of my vision. I refuse to look. I can’t.

I cant I cant I cant

There’s more of them. They’re behind me, waiting as I type. They want me to look at them, for my brain to break. I won’t give them the satisfaction.

I can feel them on my shoulder I’m only squinting at the keyboard now the dark claw rips through my shirt and I call out but I don’t open my eyes I won’t do it they’re going to have to pull me away from the



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