The Day The Sky Broke

It was a normal day, like any other, people bustling through the semi-busy streets. Waiting for their next paycheck, trying to survive, and attempting to play a broken guitar they don't know how to play. Well, at least that's what Brylow Rivas was going through, as he strummed faulty cord after faulty cord. He was normally very good with instruments. However, the guitar was one of his weakest skills. He had yet to become famous. For now, he found himself stuck in his parents’ basement playing outside of an ice cream shop. As the general manager filled out an application to get on some stupid reality show. As a random kid would flip him off from the safety of a school bus. As a woman driving a horse-drawn carriage would try to avoid eye contact, You see dear reader, this story isn't about Brylow, Or managers auditioning for dating shows, or random children, or judgemental horse riders.

Brylow was simply another poor soul, a victim of a tragic event that would break life as we know it. That day, like most people, Brylow looked up at the sky, a silent discomfort building inside of him as he was soon surrounded by thousands upon thousands of other people, all there in the plaza to look at the newly made crack in the blue morning sky revealing the cosmos and galaxies unnoticeable to the naked eye. A woman in a red suit rushed past Brylow, followed by two cameras ready to catch the sight. she stood in the center of the plaza, forcing a cheesy grin across her face.

"Thank you, Greg," the woman chirped as she clutched the red-topped microphone in her hands.

"An odd phenomenon is occurring in Boise Idaho today. An odd crack has appeared in the sky. could this be the end of life as we know it or an undiscovered astrological event? let's ask some of the onlookers."

Brylow felt unease as the woman's eyes met his. He hurried to disappear into the background but it was too late. The woman grabbed his shoulder, keeping him from running.

"What do you think about this interesting sight, sir?" the woman asked as her fingernails dug into Brylow's shoulder.

"I think you should be taking this more seriously. we have no idea what the hell is going on," Brylow grunted, completely done with her nonsense. The woman laughed as Brylow looked towards the sky. An odd grey ooze began to drip from the crack. He had to go, Brylow didn't understand what was happening. Or why he was so scared, all he knew was it was bad, very bad.

"Well, I personally see this as a new frontier worth exploring don't you agree?" the red-dressed woman chimed, doing her best to keep her smile on her face. Brylow ripped the woman's hand from his shoulder as he made his way through the awed crowd. Faces of Woman, Men, Young, Old, Rich, Poor, passed him by, all staring into the crack. Brylow reached the end of the crowd, finally free from the people pressing against him. It seemed he wasn't the only one running, as a man carrying two children rushed past him, his oldest doing her best to keep up with the man. As they ran towards a nearby bookstore.

Brylow felt a chill in the air, as screams rang through the crowd. Brylow felt something drop on his shoulder, a burning sensation coursing through his arm. He looked at his guitar: it was in a similar state. something was eroding the wood. The grey ooze melted through the instrument effortlessly. Brylow's steps quickened as he hurried to escape the gray rain desperately holding his guitar over his head. The crowd rushed towards the nearest buildings. Brylow ran towards a board games store, trying to push his way inside, but try as he might there were too many people. At the very least there was a small stone awning protecting him from the rain.

He soon found not everyone was so lucky as the screams of the woman in the red dress echoed through the air as the gray rain burned her skin. Brylow dared to look back at the woman whose perfect white smile had been replaced with the terrifying remains of bone, blood, and skin. An unbearable sight to see. The two cameramen rushed past Brylow somehow managing to survive the downpour.

"OVER HERE THERE'S SHADE!!!" Brylow hollered to the camera men. One of the men dashed towards Brylow's saving grace, his head and hat covered in burns. The other man ran to the bus stop seeking shelter underground.

That's when the second horror of the crack came through. Black long ropes seeped out, grabbing the people who had yet to find shelter. One of the ropes wrapped itself around the unsheltered cameraman's neck, strangling him as it dragged his struggling body into the sky. The second cameraman screamed, almost leaving the untouched area to join his friend before Brylow pulled him back. Tears fell from the man's eyes as the moment of the terrible death repeated in his head. Yet another rope had found them, curling around the post holding the awning up. A shotgun rang out through the air and the rope quickly pulled away from the two.

Brylow looked to the source of the shot. It was the man he saw earlier with the children hiding in a crevice between the bookshop and the board game store. a double-barrelled shotgun was grasped tightly in his arms. Brylow dragged the cameraman, who was still in shock after watching the merciless death of his co-worker. Holding his guitar over them with his other hand as he struggled to move quickly. As they moved Brylow heard a loud crash behind him. He peered back to see that the awning had been destroyed by the rain. One second more and he and that cameraman would have been flattened like insects.

The group hid praying the rain would stop… it did. A man slowly left his refuge in the nearby game store. He was soon followed by others, all horrified by the now blood-covered streets. In the center, written in blood were numbers 12:15. some people took out their bibles. claiming it was god's wrath ment for the greedy. Brylow had a different interpretation. Brylow knew exactly what that number ment, it meant they needed to move and fast. Brylow checked his watch, 10:30. The group descended into the bus station, preparing for the next storm along with others who had figured out the truth of the message. Some went about their day or yelled at the crack to take them to heaven.

Brylow sat holding the still traumatized cameraman. Jolted from being taken to the very place his friend had seized existing. Brylow attempted to strum moon river on the swiss cheese guitar to calm his nerves. It wasn't good but at least the man seemed to enjoy it

"we're safe here," he muttered to the poor man. As he tried to block the reality of their situation. At 12:15, the scream from the surface echoed through the air once more. Not down here though, here they were safe.