Dead silence.
That was the sound of my world after it was all over. But before…. before it was a maelstrom of earth, bodies, decay and deterioration. It was what we all thought to be the end of our lives, and in a way it was.
Dark smoke seeped in through the crevices in the walls. The putrid scent gagged us to point of illness. Off in the distance, past the walls of our so called “shelter”, we could hear the cries of humans, screeching in agony at lost limbs or lost hope. Now that I think back, sitting here in my place of safety, the air, as un-breathable as it was, smelled like death. Slowly that scent though would weasel its way into your mouth it sour and obtrusive scent turning into a flavor or rot carcass and decay. Death. That was the one word I can find to describe those unbearable days. Death, it was all that we knew during those agonizingly long moments, those moments that seemed to drag on to the end of time. But the end must come eventually right?
The walls began to tremble, hinting that our own death might be imminent. Airplanes flying over head were trumpets announcing the arrival a king, but for us that king would be the bombs of death. By now this sound had become oddly familiar. But I still dug my nails into the concrete bench upon which I sat, it cut into my skin, and blood began to flow down my hands, pain reverberating out of my every core. I didn’t even notice. The trembles turned into quakes. Rubble began to fall down around us. Then I heard it…. the last thing I would remember. A scream, my scream, and then I heard….
Dead silence.