It’s easy to avoid other people when there are no other people. Alone, I wander the hollow structures of the world that was, dripping with the vines that have inevitably reclaimed all the stone and steel dredged up from her stomach.
I am not as alone as I’d like to be. Demons flicker in the mirror. I can hear their laughter echoing down hallways. At night, I sometimes flinch out of sleep, seeing eyes in the back of the room.
More and more I am convinced of their actuality. More and more these creatures manifest themselves into my world. My fear has become absolute, not of what they can do, but of what I can convince myself of. I am manifesting a nightmare into this world and I have no control over it.
I find many things in the wake of their departure. Tinned food. Bottled water. I find torn clothes and sturdy boots. I find bandages and antiseptic wipes. Everything I could possibly need to keep the body going. Antipsychotics are harder to come by. And so I see the drawstrings tightening around this sure conclusion. Alive and not living.
Paddy Dobson
19th January 2021