The Day of Judgement

"How long has it been, thirteen, no fourteen years now. The life in my eyes have flickered and have gone dim. The likely hood I will ever find him is gone, but whether it be passion or vengeance my feet keep marching. I've been asking myself for so long why I don’t just take the time and pray, but with the ever-growing question of, 'Why?' stops me in my tracks. Reality starts to set in, and the collapse of that very notion shelters me. My boy needs me and I, him, that's all there is to it." a deep silent voice spoke.

A bandaged hand reached for the button on the tape recorder, with a click the machine came to a stop. His tired eyes looked to his other palm that held his Father’s Day gift. A small heart-shaped locket that held the picture of his wife and son, he pulled the clasp of the gold chain wrapping it to his neck for the locket to rest inside his dirtied jacket. High winds blew through the trees swaying the long undisturbed branches from their rest, the sounds of leaves embracing one another in a cascading symphony blotting out the crackle from a small fire. The bandaged hand brushed through his unshaven face matted with blood, dirt, and tears. His hardened brown eyes ever vigilant to his surroundings, while his nose breathed the scent of the small rodent that hovered over the small flames. He brushed the small recorder of any dirt or grime from the screen noticing the black bar barely visible inside the logo of a battery. With the removal of the small, cooked rodent he snuffed the flame and covered the smoldering remains in heavy soil. He examined the glistening morsel that he once revered as a disgusting pest years past, with a sigh he placed the meat of the rodent into his mouth and climbed into the shelter of the tree, his presence seemingly vanished. With a pull of a dirtied knife, he quietly cut the meat from the bones, eating a few slices, and storing other bits inside a cloth rag. From his higher vantage point, he looked out to a scene of carnage, through the branches he looked out to the abandoned vehicles that littered the streets. Most seemingly scavenged by any survivors, totaled on the day of judgment, or simply abandoned due to lack of fuel. He laid his head back to rest against the bark of the large tree, his mind raced with the thoughts of supplies, shelter, food, and any indication of his son's whereabouts.

His strained eyes rested momentarily behind the lids of his eyes, in the darkness of his mind flashes of carnage and absolute despair, overwhelmed his sixth sense. A sudden sound of a loud snort alerted him that he was not alone anymore, his nose now smelling the sick smell of decay. He hurriedly pocketed the small scraps of meat, before grasping the hilt of the knife he used earlier into his palm tightly. Another loud snort echoed briefly into the air, as a large body of a hog lumbered underneath his position. Its snout dug deeply into the dirt snorting and sniffing, before finding the recently covered embers of the small fire. With little thought of its actions the hog brushed through the loose soil burning its nose and responding with a loud squeal and flailing of its body. The lone man wrapped his legs around the long sturdy branch and lowered quietly to his stomach to brace himself. As if on cue, the leaves began to shake violently as more than a dozen more hogs raced through the area, breaking, and stomping their engorged hooves throughout the small piece of land. The hoard of hogs ripped up the small trees and tore through the soil in search of would-be vigilantes before racing off away from the area. The man breathed silently through his nose and out his mouth, as if concerned that the sound of his beating heart would give away his position. The smell of their stench wafting away from underneath the tree, helped sooth his senses. He slowly began his climb back to the ground while keeping his attention on high alert, as his feet touched down on the root, he dug his hand into a small rotted out hole at the trees base retrieving a small bag stuffing it with the tape recorder and small cloth wrapped meat.

He decided it best to head in the opposite direction of the herd of hogs, his eyes looked towards the road of abandoned cars looking to a large green sign allowing motorists to know Dallas was eighty miles away. His feet moved swiftly under his light weight, the bulk of his mass seemingly the hair on his face and the large jacket that hid his bundle from unwanted eyes. His tall frame made his presence appear almost like that of Slender man, but his hygiene was not up to par of the fantasy dribble of such a creature. He stealth fully rummaged through the vehicles that landed in the ditches below the highway, never daring to have his appearance seen. His search like with most vehicles over the years offered him nothing more than torn clothes, upholstery, and gutted dashboards. With a few grabbed articles of fabric, he made his way back into the tree line out of sight, but just enough visual to keep a look out. His feet moved effortless through the leaves and sticks; the sound of his movement was silent compared to the ever-growing speeds of the wind. The dark clouds began to envelope the skies and the humidity began to stick to the skin, his eyes trailed briefly to a drainpipe underneath the highway. His body froze and his heart seemed to slow to a marksman beat, the sound from out of the pipe seemed to echo out a grotesque gargle. The sound of a squish followed by a loud repetitive thump made him hide behind the closest tree. His body shrinking down low to the ground before twisting to his stomach, slowly pushing his body away from the approaching sound.

"Solace is our pain." A low voice boomed outward from the mouth of the pipe followed by the same heavy thumps and wet squishing sounds.

"Allowing our wounds to foster children of the flies, the wealth of nourishment to the land will plummet from our flesh!" the voice now filling the air around the trees.

The man watched as an inhumanly large hand reached out grasping the lips of the pipe, its fingers bloodied and dropping folds of maggots and flesh. Its green of rotten arms flexing what little remains of the arm of the oversized creature bringing into vision a grotesque puss filled body. His waxy skin like a cadaver found washed ashore and left baking in its own filth for days on end. The man froze in place it had been months since his last sighting of these creatures, but this one was larger than the one before. Its naked body walked with a heavy thud into the moss-covered rocks, its rotting face hung low with hives of horse flies nesting in its sockets. Its throat continued to vibrate with every low grunt and words that spewed from its mouth.

"Heed warnings from the heavens, all will burn in the righteous flames of the Omega. Through the licks of the flames our gorgeous Princes shall rule in horror over that which remains. Low will the Angels glide and high will our arms reach, pulling and tearing each of their wings so that we may fly to the heavens and conquer our father who sits fearful of his children." Its voice trailed away with every step.

"Our flesh will give rise to the trees that we build our bridge to his gates! Solace is our pain." its lumbering presence slowly disappeared.

The man quietly laid his head to the ground holding back what little meat he had previously eaten in the day. His slowed heart now racing with his adrenaline coursing his veins, sweat beaded his neck and cheeks. The lingering smell of decay perfumed the surrounding area and with it will come the beckoning of the wild that tirelessly looked to eat. He slowly raised to one knee scanning the area before running further into the depths of the ever-growing forest. His thoughts trailing back to the days he now found laughable for thinking they were tough.

The dark skies rippled with light as the flash of lightening flashed throughout the heavens. From beyond the clouds the moon raised higher into the sky, with the chilling droplets answering its coming. The man continued to run through the woods with the fall of rain covering his scent and the booming rumbles of thunder masking his strides. His heavy breath matched the southern winds in intensity, while the beats of his heart seemingly the loudest natural disaster. Coming to a stop at the base of a tree the man collapsed into its rough embrace.

"Fuck!" he yelled out meeting a clatter of thunder.

His composer was lost, his hands clawed at the earth slinging dirt, sticks, and leaves in every direction. The sight of the aged man taken down to that of a toddler, his mental state seemingly damaged from absurdities, lack of nutrients, and sleep.

"This cannot be real! Sylas, where are you?!" his voice seemed to carry over the waves of rain droplets that bombed the environment without mercy.

The spine-chilling winds snapped the man from his rage, with now the thought of survival entering his mind. He lifted his hood covering his head properly, while leaving his position in search of better cover. After several minutes of searching, he spotted a fallen tree that seemed soft with time. Stomping a sizable chunk of bark, his sights now directed towards a group of pines that had fallen into other trees nearby. They provided enough cover to allow him a chance to use the small chunks of wood to make small kindle. He pulled his small bundle removing flints and dry grass, with a snug pile of grass he laid the bits of wood in a particular way to allow air flow to the fire. With a strike of the flint sparks illuminated the dangling locket that hung from his neck. Its gold paint chipped and smeared, much like his own mind, the hunt for his son was all that remained of his own humanity.