Paroxysm of Love & Destruction

there was almost a moment of clarification

one where my vision wouldnt be so hazy

and with lungs,

that could breathe free

if only, it were so

I feel the soulless sky's rim and the stench of death surrounds me. To rid this nightmare, is something we all want to do. Still, I couldn't put a number on those that have survived, I remain static amidst the graveyard that stands before me. With one thing grounding me. The sole connection to a hope of normalness. But even that is beyond the depths of my imagination.

Before all of this, life would seem like a fantasy.

The heart-shaped locket is the only constant in the after.

I still remember that day; It was when he promised his love to me until we were no more. Indefinitely in my eyes, but the toxic fumes proved otherwise. From day to day, I scratch it across my collarbone to remind myself it's always there. Every now and then, I open it to remind myself that a part of you is still here.

Under the gray sky, I reminisce when it was once starry and blue, you would lie beside me and only then would I have known a love so true.

How could you leave me?

Oppose all natural destruction, or that of an evil hands' doing. I yearn for the warmth of another person, the laughter that would fill my ears, and the memories that are now forever buried.

Loneliness stands as my only sanctuary.

I wrote to console my sanity. But nothing can compare to this calamity. It feels like my story may never be sought and my sacrifice yet to be redeemed.

Remembering the day when I once had it all; the morning before the "storm", thus the loss of someone I deeply love.

The radio called it a nuclear missile, a toxic bomb that has been in our atmosphere for the past year. It was not long before all connection was lost, and the human race was soon to be dissolved. Eight billion people, yet I feel like I stand alone in this destruction. It took my lover, my best friend, my husband.

The only person who set an unsteady heartbeat inside me and turned my nerves inside out.

Now, all I dream is of misery and death.

It will never fail to rile me when I come across a lifeless body, I cannot help but overflow with the thoughts of how they were once someone's sister, brother, mother, father, or lover.

I cannot help but think of Ethan.

Deserted in this cabin made for two, detached from any human connection or resolution. For I have grown tired of reaching to an infinity of impossible, and move closer to the double edged-knife. To maybe have myself reconnect with him, will be all that I wish of this shattered world. And I am willing to put all my odds on a maybe.

Until then, I survive on the one consciousness of hope that slowly diminishes as time clocks away. Each and every time I suit up for a grocery run, I feel like a part of me is lost.

How is this our new normal?

I zip the protective suit and tape the trash bags over my ankles and feet. Pull the strap from my mask over my head and under my hair. Pull the oxygen tanks up and over my shoulders. Zip down the tent that has now become my hallway, and prepare myself for a post-apocalyptic world. That has no desire to renew.

Some would say I am lucky to be so deserted from the mass chaos. But it's easily reminded when I have to walk down the streets of death and into the abandoned stores that stray.

The city is filled with empty houses, desolate of living activity, desolate of any people.

What was once our evening stroll, is a path consumed by nightmare and depression.

Becoming isolated within this existential angst of normalcy. Where one would fear another, and the air relays as a defined death. Still, I walk within these carcinogenic like streets - where oxygen is a toxin unknown. And living is feared by the known.

These thoughts settle deeper into my mind as I enter Wave C, the wormhole of destruction. To any person before, well before all of this, it would appear as an innocent ghost town. But as the road brings you deeper within, even through the mask, the decaying bodies would seize to captivate your senses. I’ve become so accustomed to death, that even the thought of ghosts couldn’t unnerve me.

Still, I walk inattentively down Reaper’s very own, focused on the calamity that shall await me.

I reach the destination in mind, quickly searching for the items I need at hand. But day by day, they each become scarce.

“Bathroom essentials, food, and duct tape. That’s all I need,” I speak aloud to myself. Almost trying to convince myself that I’m the only person who survived this mass extinction, and, by chance I would only need the necessary materials to supply one person.

I grab a case of water, when I hear radio static coming from the back area of the store.

Instantly, I am panicking. I’ve been here dozens of times and never experienced this. Is there someone else here? Some part of me, unafraid of what would lie on the other side of the door, is starting to take over me and allow curiosity to roam free.

I decide I want to feed my doubts.

I make headway to where the static calls me, growing louder and louder. I stand before the freezer room. What seems to sound as a struggling sound and distant cries come about, but the muffled sounds are no comparison to a boarded, bulky freezer room.

My shock driven body cannot build the courage to pull the handle.

“You already made it this far Al, just grow the balls to do it. What do you lose!”

I almost grow intensely angry with myself, I cannot believe this is happening. In a peak of adrenaline, I whip the door wide open.

“CLOSE IT!” A distressed man yells at me as if it took up every ounce of energy in him to speak.

Instantly, I do so. I realized he didn’t have a mask and his suit was torn up.

His chapped lips and charred tongue can hardly make out a sentence, but I assume he must’ve come across someone or something. Relieved that it wasn’t some zombie waiting to eat me for lunch, which wouldn’t surprise me at this point. I make way to leave so I can find an extra mask to at least get him out of this death room, but something jabs at my leg.

As I turn to see what caught me, my limbs get heavy. I fall head first into the ground, the concussion makes my vision go hazy but just at an angle to see what is happening.

“A needle?!”

Why wouldn’t I assume that I would be drugged and robbed mid-crisis?

I feel his cracked fingertips make way to my suit and slowly unzip, and then he goes for the mask. My muffled screams are no match for a paralyzed body.

I woke up to my bare body, shivering. I want to be scared, but I can hardly keep my breathing steady, I can no longer endure the pain. My eyes are giving up on me and I can’t retain the urge.

I latch my weak hand onto the locket, and full-heartedly, give in.