PENUMBRA - An Afterlife Story

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"I'm not sure anymore how long I've been here," confessed Danielle, tipping her chin down toward the littered floor of the bar. "A long time. Longer than Tyson has, and he's the only other one I know who… is still here."

The hole left in the wall of the bar was not comforting, and she knew Tyson felt the same. He wouldn't show it, though; he would want to keep everyone at ease. But still… When night came… Danielle suppressed a shiver. She would let Tyson explain about the Umbra.




The hole in the wall was a hole in Tyson's soul. He gripped the edge of the bar as it ripped open inside of him, twisting and tearing and wrecking his guts. It took him a moment to recover enough to hear his patrons again. When he did, his grin turned wry. Rueful. He remembered a time when he'd asked those questions, and he doubted they'd like his answers any more than he had.

"This place is called Potter's Field, according to the signs we've been able to find. As far as anyone can tell, this is where you come when you die. And those creatures are what we call Umbra." It wasn't his word; one of the ones who had been here before him had used the name, and it had stuck. Tyson wasn't even sure if that man had been the one to use it first, but that didn't matter. It was a name to put on the things that stalked them, a label for something to fear. "It seems like there's one Umbra for each of us. They try to draw you out in the open so that they can catch you. When your Umbra touches you, it's over. You're gone, just like that. You're safe in your Haunt- that's wherever it is you woke up- during the day, but at night they can get in.

"…And that's about all I know," he finished, apology in his tone. Once again, Tyson's eyes drifted to where the charred man had punched through the wall. The bar was Tyson's Haunt; what did the breach mean for him?

Was it still safe?



He was looking at her no no no no.

She was ugly, so ugly, so she shrank away. He could never understand because he looked perfect with his handsome unblemished face, smooth pink skin and he didn't look like her, didn't look dead and ugly and horrid. Don't look at me, she heard herself say, don't look don't look.

She didn't want him to see because then he'd leave.

Back, she had to step back, put her back up against the wall, even though that didn't make her safe and

Why was her back wet

Paint?




An otherworldly wail rang down the hospital corridor. This was not the screams of a woman; it sounded more like a chorus, like three distinct voices crying out in unified, hellish anguish.

Something else was here.




When Krystaline reached the rooftop, she saw the silhouette of a man standing in the shadows of the church bell. It had Daniel's height, his build. It even had his scent; Krystaline could smell his cologne from where she stood. The figure's back was turned to her, however, and she couldn't quite make out any concrete features.

Krystaline… Help me… The whisper came again, caressing her ear.




The two-headed Umbra managed to close in on its prey, despite its struggles against itself. As it approached the edge of the sand, it took deep whiffling breaths, seeking out the scent of its creator. Its tongue lolled like a fat, wiggling grub from its skeletal mouth.

It could not see, but it could smell him. Taste him.

Delicious.




As Jethro approached the threshold of his garage, he heard shotgun fire again. Closer, this time. Was it only a street over?
 
Soft eyes passed over from title to title, taking no interest in the slightest from what she found. Thus far, not a single novel caught her attention, quenched the thirst for a certain type of read she desired. Glancing down to the floor beneath her, Kim felt one of her brows arch, analyzing each little rotten spot within the carpet. Well, if this wasn't just the most beautiful place to be right now. Shaking her head, hair was tossed absentmindedly to the side, away from such careful vision. The light filling the room was dim, only coming from the few broken windows along dirty walls. Some posters were still intact, advertising the current sales, the top reads of the month. Most, however, were torn down halfway, hanging lifelessly in between holding up, and reaching the floor. How tragic that must be for those inanimate objects. To be unwanted by the walls, like an abandoned child, and to be deemed as unworthy to lay upon the floor; it was a sad kind of existence. Eyeing a rather colorful poster from afar, even with the hues deeply faded, Kimberly allowed herself to become lost in space.

Fluttering. Not a butterfly with wings, not that kind from a twitchy sort of flight. More like something falling to the ground.
Paper. Nothing could make quite the same sound as paper. I had a distinct tone and quality.
Movement. There was movement. It could not be seen, nor heard, but somehow it was felt through the air.
Lovely. Someone, something was nearby. Kimberly was not alone.

Muscles flexed for a quick second, taking a tighter hold on the TMP in her grasp. Whirling around on her heels, wild red strands gathered some static from the atmosphere, floating along the emptiness behind her head. Eyes flickering from side to side, Kim felt her chest raise and lower at a faster rate, her breathing took an attempt to calm down and steady itself. Spooked enough for her own liking, a few cautious steps were taken forward, towards the area the sound was sure to have come from. Catching glimpse of a couple stacks of parchment against the woolly covering beneath her enclosed toes, if she had a lower lip, she knew she'd be biting it right this moment. Alas, all she could do was flip her tongue from side to side in anxiety, waiting for another sign to point out she was indeed not that crazy. Not yet, at least.​
 
[size=+1]
"Death can come at any moment. You could die this afternoon; you could die tomorrow morning; you could die on your way to work; you could die in your sleep. Most of us try to avoid the sense that death can come at any time, but its timing is unknown to us. Can we live each day as if it were our last? Can we relate to one another as if there were no tomorrow?"
- JOHN HALIFAX, 'Being With Dying'​
[/size]

[size=+1]And suddenly it's awful busy in Tyson's Bar. Fuck, this is probably the busiest I've seen it since I found out this place existed. Not very long, I admit, but even Tyson himself looks pretty surprised at the people appearing out the woodwork.

I say 'people' for lack of a proper term for us all. Ghosts? The walking dead? Zombies? None seem to do the whole thing justice. How can you convey in a single word or phrase what's become of us all? Cut off from everything we once knew, stranded in this place, our appearances marred by the penultimate event that brought us here?

How the fuck do you even describe something like that?

To be fair to him Tyson's certainly trying to, explaining the lay of the land to a new arrival. The girl with the hair across her face is now chatting to the guy I saw standing outside the bar. The place almost seems alive, actually.

Almost.

But not quite.[/size]


[size=+1]Somewhere in Potter's Field, the gentleman waits. Patiently and without hurry.

For he knows he has all the time in this world.

You cannot fight fate, after all...[/size]
 
For several minutes, Josh was silent. On the outside, it was impossible to tell what he was feeling. He'd been like that in life, keeping everything inside until he cracked and caved and uselessly lashed out. And where had that gotten him? Here, in Potter's Field. Dead. And about to die again.

Joshua was stricken. Panicked. Angry.

All those nights he'd spent in the restaurant huddled into a corner had been for nothing. It- the Umbra, the monster, the thing that scraped under the bridge- could have kicked the door in and taken him whenever it pleased. Instead it had let him think he was safe in his ramshackle little Haunt, merely suggesting its existence by making the night echo with the sound of knives against steel.

This what I get? This my eternal reward for being a pathetic loser in life? The first time I died was pathetic. How is this any better? What's the fucking point of dying twice?

He was being hunted. Toyed with. It was a familiar feeling. The stakes were just higher this time. It didn't matter how much of a useless little shit he'd been in life. His cowardice, his refusal to face his problems head-on, hadn't protected him. He wasn't going to watch himself fail all over again.

I refuse to be mown over.

Finally, he moved, lifting his head. He was surrounded by people here. In a way, it was comfortable, but didn't it mean that the Umbras would swarm on them, en masse? The bar was already crowded. "Is it better for us to stay together like this?" he said, speaking to the crowd. His fangs poked out behind his lipless mouth; he wasn't yet sure how to hide them. "There must be something we can do to slow them down."
 
So that thing that attacked her that time was a umbra, she shivered just to think about it, and they are trying to kill everyone.
"Wonder what happens when you die the second time" she mumbled to herself barely even noticing that she had said anything. It was funny, Sapphire had always thought that she would end up in a paradise when she died or that it would just end with nothing at all. But she never thought she would end up in some hell like place, where you could die once again.

"Is it better for us to stay together like this? There must be something we can do to slow them down." Said a faceless guy. If Sapphire had seen that guy a week earlier she would have escaped from that place faster than a rocket, but now it had become her everyday life so she wasn't even bothered about it anymore.
The guy had a point, somehow they must be able to slow them down, or maybe even kill them. But how?
Why couldn't this be a dream? Couldn't she just wake up in a hospital bed after almost dying and then return to her life again? What had she ever done to deserve this fate, she couldn't imagine that anyone in Potter's field had done something so horrible to deserve to get there.
 


No, he could not look. No, it was just too much! The coloring was hurting his eyes, the letters bold and fading, spelling out names with every blink, numbers that made no sense, reminders of his failures. He could not take it. Bloody tears where filling his eyes and the blinking and rubbing was doing nothing to get rid of them. The walls where growing brighter, strips and cute characters adorning the paper that was torn and dropping to the ground. The memory he tried to force down came out, and his breaths became ragged.


He looks at the crib facing blue walls, little yellow ducks going from one end to the other. He did not know why his wife thought Jacob's room needed such a thing. It was pointless, but he wanted to please her. She did carry his child for nine months. His baby boy was sleeping soundly after keeping them up all night yet still he could not rest. His paternity leave was over. He had to go back. Back to base, and back to ignoring his wife for most of the time. Only a few calls now and then, letters he wrote but did not receive responses to.

"Must you leave?! Now after a fucking week? I need you here...I need help..."

He shook his head. He could not respond. It would insure a fight, he did not need that coming back the first day. Saying goodbye to them both was already hard enough. Did she not understand he wanted to stay?

Grabbing the duffle bag on the floor by his side, he slung it over his massive shoulder. His wife did not understand what he went through to provide for them. Perhaps soon she would, but for now no. He would just let her scream and cry. It was the best he could do.

She followed him out the door, screaming that she was the only one doing work, having responsibilities. He let her rant. She would forgive him later. She always did, or so he thought.

Reaching his SUV, he saw his best friend, a smile on his face.

"Back to the shit hole, huh?" Matthew chuckled along with him.

"Yeah...Take care of her.....I'm sorry to bring this on you again..." He spoke, his voice becoming rough. He did not want to go. He wanted to stay with his handsome son, his beautiful wife. His family.

His best friend patted his shoulder and shook his head with a grin. Getting in, he started the car and waited a moment. He had stalled the most he could but he was running out of time. Pulling out he went slow and looking at his rearview mirror the last thing he saw was tears in his wife's eyes, and his best friend waving goodbye.


He felt his body shake and shiver, the tremors where painful. He guessed that's where all the lying started. She was right. He was worthless.


Everything was quiet now. All he felt was his tears and the numbness from the realization. All was quiet....Then...the screams.


His bleeding ears muddied the sound even more, but no one could not distinguish the sound. They where painful cries, ignored cries. A child.....His son...He could hear no one else now. Not even the woman, and for some reason he refused to care.


With each step he took, his feet became unbalanced. He started to sway to each side. What was happening? What was this world?


Closing his eyes he tried to clear his head. He needed to gain control. This could not defeat him. This hell would not bring him further pain.


Opening his eyes, his vision cleared and his hearing sharper. A cold shiver traveled down the length of his spine.


Sharp clawing, like nails to a chalk board. It was coming from behind him, louder with each second and each step. Something was coming..Something evil.


Pushing off his heal he did not care if he stumbled along the way. He ran, ran hard and fast. Taking a sharp turn he fell onto the ground, the blood seeping from his throat falling on the floor and making him slip and unable to get up. He felt helpless. Never had he felt like this. This frustration was overwhelming.


He crawled to a near by room, his muscles stiffened and forced him inside. He shut the door, locked it and pushed his body against it. It was still dark. He would wait to leave in the morning. Maybe it would be safer. He just could not do this right now. He felt like a coward.


As the scratching got closer, he hoped it would pass and not discover him, otherwise he would be in a whole mess of shit.
 
Another wail, my brain can't think fast enough. something was here, so was someone else, people. Was this hell? Was I hearing the screams of the tortured? Either way starting my afterlife by hiding was not something I'd let happen. Slowly broken glass crunching beneath my feet. I re-enter the corridor and try to remember the direction the woman's screaming came from. There was the faint glimmer of hope that it was my wife calling to me.

I begin to move faster, turning left into another corridor, my gut still squirming with the bleeding colours, like a watercolour rainbow in the rain. The entire scene is like a child's twisted nightmare, a half remembered scene from a hospital visit by a toddler. No it wasn't worth trying to rationalize. One foot in front of another, keep going. Keep looking out for movement.

I began to hum, for whom the bell tolls, a slow steady tune, the first that came into my head, a familiar sound I could hold onto, a sloe pace to could follow. I was adjusting, settling in, getting used to the idea that this was what i was presented with and one way or the other I had to deal with it.
 
The colvulsions of panic and terror slowly began to subside, as did the body ahead of him. However, the blood remained. It drifted in clouds along the shoreline, catching on the ground, retracting, and catching again as the tide ebbed and grew. Dante stared at it for some time, hoping that by wishing it away it would do so. He questioned where he was, and if everything he was going through was real. It felt real. Oh, damn did it feel real.

A gentle chill crossed through his being once more, turning his attention to the box chained to his ankle. It just sat there, as it always had. But that's not where the spine prickling fear came from. It was more centralised, more contained in a single area. Like a streak of pain tethered to something that was far from palpable. And with that, Dante turned to eye a strange beast staring right back at him. He stared right at its eyes, or what remained of the empty sockets. Despite all the signs his body gave to run away, he could not tear his gaze.

There were questions racing through his mind. Why was it here? What does it want? Can it see him? Why is it just standing there? What is it? A fluttering thought always presented itself for a split second in the back of his mind, but he paid no heed. He knew he could not run, it would be futile. He was stuck, held in place by an object that's meaning was unknown entirely. Perhaps... perhaps maybe, that creature would have answers. No one had told him otherwise as to what he should do, that is, if there even was anyone around to do so. Certainly, it could be of some use to him.

So he waited. A never ending staring contest between him and the beast which seemed to do no more than watch, and paw at the ground with unease. To him... the game was just beginning.




 
Krystaline looked at the figure and would have run towards it, but she felt something of a chill run down her spine. "Daniel?" she murmered, looking at the figure. It wasn't the same size as him and there was just something that made her scared of him or it.
 
"Hunted by demons and the only company to be had, the dead and damned...I really am in hell."

Alex held back a sigh of frustration. If there was no safety from the nightmarish things out there what was the point of all of this? "Clearly," he thought "These..." he paused in mid thought trying to find an accurate word to describe the present company. He resolved his internal debate, concluding that "sad ugly fucks" would suffice as a denominator.

"Still they've managed to hang around somehow. That can't happen on accident. There must be more that they know about surviving in this place."

Survival, it was a relative term. Perhaps the word had lost some meaning after his death but it still held some. After all, even hell must be a better choice than oblivion. Having reached this conclusion, Alex resolved himself to survive in his new circumstances, whatever that meant for him now. The city, this Potter's Field, was growing dark. The hole in the wall of the bar suddenly became a more ominous concern.

"If they can get in at night this place is no good, those things could pass right by and get a clear look in now. There has to be a better place to hide, probably more than a few."

How to get to such a place safely through the streets was a less clear detail of Alex's surroundings, and yet...He turned to look at the young girl, Sapphire, with whom he had arrived. Maybe there was an opportunity there.

"So there's nothing to stop those things from coming in here if they can find us and that lunatic racist just put a big new peep hole in the wall. Um, does anyone else see the pressing concern? Sapphire?" Alex turned and addressed the girl directly, "Unless our new friends here have any more advice, I don't see why anywhere else doesn't stand a fair chance of being safer than here. If you want, after we find a safer place to wait out the night, I'll help you find who you're looking for tomorrow."
 
Sapphire was in deep thoughts not noticing the people around her, suddenly she heard her name. She vague knew that he was talking about that they weren't safe together, but because she had concentrated on other things she had just been able to remember a couple of words. The guy she had arrived with kept talking about them going somewhere else safer, she didn't like the idea. She realised that it wasn't safer to be with others than being alone, maybe it would be more dangerous. But she felt safer when more people were there. But as fast as he said that he'll help her find the one she's looking for then she couldn't resist. If she could get someone to help her then she would leave the bar even though it felt safer. She new anyway that it didn't make it safer to be with others so it didn't matter if they stayed or not.

Sapphire looked around at the people in the bar and thought for some seconds before answering.
"It doesn't matter to me if we stay or leave" She said while she leaned against the wall.
 
Danielle looked at Tyson, mouth poised to speak.

The sun, if that's what kept Potter's Field lit in the "daytime", went out.

Somewhere, out on the streets, a chorus of joyous screams rent the darkness of the city, as shadows began to twist and turn, the very foundations of the buildings quaking and shifting. Night had fallen in Potter's Field... and the question of whether the bar was safe was now officially a moot point. The Umbra were out. Nowhere was safe.

Tyson jumped over the bar, heading for the back door. "Shit! Everyone get moving!"

"Hurry," Danielle whispered in urgent tones, grabbing Joshua's hand and pulling him with her as she slid from the stool and followed after her friend. She didn't spare more than a glance for the others, but in her eyes was a pleading note. If they were smart, they would heed the warning.

If they were smart, they would run.

The lights were gone, gone, snuffed out by the shadows, just like the shadows were going to do to them, they would be snuffed out like dying little candles and oh no what was that noise

Caitlin clung to the man at her side even if she was ugly and he wasn't and she was getting her filth all over him because he needed to know it wasn't safe no not at all. Everything was turning pink and blue and red like bloody lollipops and the floor was a mess of blocks and jigsaw puzzle pieces that tripped her up and tried to swallow her feet whole and there was a terrible terrible howling all the while.

She changed her mind, she wasn't ready yet, please don't take me.

The world was changing.

The Umbra grew.

Potter's Field General Hospital began to melt, the walls turning into a twisted amalgam of candy and pulsing organs, the floors a quagmire of puzzle pieces and children's blocks, the beds folding in on themselves into dessicated sacks that smelled of long-dead meat, the sinks spewing fonts of blood and bile and formaldehyde. Bones and children's toys began to drop from the ceiling, as if a cave-in of pediatric graves were imminent. A roar of buzzing flies and sobbing women and babes filled the ears of those inside. It was a nightmarish clusterfuck, borne of the presence of not one, nor two, but four distinct beings which closed in on their counterparts.

A wailing three-headed beast. A childlike thing, horribly mutilated. A suit-clad figure with a giant, pulsating growth atop its shoulders. And a sunken, rabid, gibbering monster with ratlike skull exposed.

Out in the streets surrounding Tyson's Bar, the city fared no better. Tendrils of midnight hair wrapped and crawled in tangles like a mass of roots around and through the buildings, like cobwebs setting a snare. Water began to trickle from every crevice. Teeth jutted haphazardly up through the pavement, ivory stalagmites gleaming in the night. The stench of rotten meat wafted up from the manholes as fire hydrants burst with the force of a dark ichor. TVs across the city cut on with a furious static, broken shot glasses crunching themselves on the sidewalk. And yet more shadows zeroed in on the bar.

A lumbering, masked giant. A young, spritely girl with a terrible grin. A woman in a long, old-fashioned dress, her hair obscuring her face and fanning out around her. A huge, spider-legged mass of bodies writhing and contorting in agony. A crippled, sightless fiend with blade-like appendages and an unwanted twin riding its back.

So many ghosts, so little time.

Down on the beach, the sand turned to glass under Dante's feet. The sniffing Umbra began to skitter slowly forward, its front and hind legs straining in opposite directions.

A burning odor filled Jethro's nostrils. It smelled of gunpowder, but also of a far more familiar scent; smoldering human flesh and hair. Shotgun shells began to rain down from overhead, pelting him like hail.

More shots rang out, closer now.

The books began to fly off of the shelves of the bookstore, fluttering like agitated birds as Kim sought the source of the disturbance. From down the aisle, a cacophony of wheezing and creaking bones sounded. Kim's eyes were drawn like magnets to the crawling, contorted body that was making its way toward her, coughing and lolling its horribly extended tongue.

Suddenly, the shop seemed to be on wheels... Wheels that were spinning, spinning, hurtling down the street at breakneck speed.

On the roof of the chapel, wedding bells began to toll, a bridal march issuing up from the organ under Krystaline's feet.

The figure awaiting her turned slowly.

A faceless male corpse, blackened as though from fire, met her terrified gaze. A second torso hung limply, upside-down, from the male's waist- a female with wide, eyeless sockets and a permanent leer. It cackled in a girlish shriek of glee as the thing that had used Daniel's voice moved toward Krystaline.

And then Daniel was holding her- Daniel, flesh and blood, his strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her tight and safe against his chest.

"Shhh," he told her softly, stroking her hair. "It's all over now. I'll take care of you."

The bells and organ quieted.

An empty rooftop and abandoned church remained.
 
As the dark haze of mid faded from Tai's vision he only awoke to walk in what would be described as living hell, the nightmare he'd been trying to fight against. Sections of concrete had been torn down crashed on to the floor, broken glass lay scattered across an empty street. A cold chill was sent down Tai's back as he watched the shadows around him. They somehow seemed to be alive lurking, waiting for the right time to pounce. As he looked down he saw chains wrapped around his wrists... 'No wait. My family. My brother! where are they? I'll kill that bastard if he touches them!'

Without noticing it, blood seeped onto his clothing from three areas, the gunshots. It didn't hurt. As he looked around he remembered, his brother had shot him and he was most likely death. 'So this is death huh - this is one shit hole that the bible forgot to describe.' He looked up at the half broken building shattered, torn and crumbled. The streets were deserted, there was nothing. Whatever decided to blow that up, he wasn't gonna stick around and wait for it to come back. He'd need a report, somebody around here had to be able to tell him the situation. 'What the fuck am I thinking? Tai, man. Your dead...although sayin' that.' Observing the wrecked buildings he scowled at them, I'm better off looking for something than staying stuck here. Suddenly he heard a large group of joyous screams...joyous but not in the slightest bit friendly.

Before him Tai could see a set of eyes, glaring at him. He knew that look, any soldier would. Blood lust, killing intent. Realizing he was unarmed Tai ran down the back of an alleyway. 'Time to get the fuck out of here.'
 
Sapphire was just a week old in this world but she knew what the chilly feeling she got meant. It was something people learned fast at potter's field. As the last rays of the sun disappeard, the umbra awoke. This place was far from safe at this point. Sapphire had froze in fear when she got the feeling of umbras comming near but when someone screamed to everyone that they should be moving, Sapphire woke up from her shock. This would be a long night of running, and if they were lucky, then they would still excist the next day.

Sapphire tried to think fast, if she would try to take the backdoor with the others then they would have more umbras after them. It's better to go alone or just a couple of people, then there will be less umbras trying to catch them. Even if the thought of being alone with an umbra trying to catch her, the thought of alot of umbras trying to catch them was even more terrifying. And more people would slow them down. She had decided. Sapphire ran towards the main door, without knowing if that guy she had met was with her or not, she had more important things to think about, like surviving. She ran out on the street, trying to keep hidden as much as she could while she tried to get far away from wherever the umbras where.

What was best? Running around in the houses or outside on the street? There wouldn't be any end to the streets, if she were in a house and the umbra came in, if it stood in the doorway so she couldn't get out of the room then she would be screwed. But it would be easier to see her on the street, and how long would she be able to run? Her rational thoughts soon started to disappear when the fear took over and she just ran without any other goal than escaping.
 
And so it came. The sand had turned to glass, morphed strangely by the presence of the night. No longer slowly did the creature come forth, no longer in wait or in perverse frustration. It was coming. There was no escape or safety now, no, not now that the night had come and all bets were off. Dante was going to die. How did he know? Well... he didn't, for sure. But there was that instinct to run, to hide, to do whatever the fuck he could to get away but he knew it was inevitable. Whatever that was going to happen to him was going to happen irregardless of what he could do. The afterlife had screwed him over, and damn, it did so well.

He cursed himself, but he mostly cursed that which is fate. Selfish as it was regarding his motives, he did it freely. The blame was not put on him, on his inane curiosity, nor was it put on the fact that he put it himself in this predicament. Oh, no... it was put on the people he knew, the people who pushed him to his limits. Those who he considered the wrong doers of his situation. Denial was like a drug one can't shake. You take a shot, and you can only keep going. And as you keep going, you get farther and farther in the depths of dispair. The dispair then leads you to take another hit-- another dose of denial, and the process repeats. Until something happens to prove otherwise.

For Dante, there was nothing to ever prove him otherwise.

He just stared at the beast that came towards him. That was all he could do. Just stare, and wait, and listen. Listen to the eerie sounds of the glass splitting under the nails of the creature before him... It had come.
 
Darkness.
But she was still there. She was still aware of her own existence. Unfortunately.

Slowly, Odessa opened her eyes. It took her time to recognize the place. She was laying at the bottom of the large fishtank at the aquarium. But the fish were not there anymore. Neither was the water.

Where am I?

She remembered everything. Waiting for everybody to leave. Taking her shoes and socks off. Taking her pants off. Sitting with her feet touching the water of the large fishtank. Taking the pills. Laying on her side, waiting for them to take effect. Pain. Feeling weak. Rolling herself and falling inside the fish tank. Pain. The beautiful fish... the water...

And then, nothing. For a long while.

But after that, she realized she was still there. She had not, against her own belief, erased herself from existence.

Odessa slowly moved her arms. She was soaked, and her blouse moved as if she was still underwater. She took a good look at her hands... Her long, knuckly fingers were all wrinkly and damp. She observed those wrinkles for a long, long time, wondering if they were going to dissappear sometime. She also wondered if she was ever going to get dry. But there was one nagging thought, one that constantly reappeared in her mind, disrupting her peaceful moment.

Where am I and why?

Slowly, Odessa sat up. Her hair felt heavy... it moved as if it were underwater. She played with it for some seconds, dragging it in the air with her head movements, from side to side. It wasn't fun. It was merely entertaining.

Didn't I kill myself?

She started walking towards the glass wall of the tank. One of the glass panels was completely shattered; she jumped out of the tank through there, landing barefoot on the aquarium floor, over the shattered glass. Strangely she didn't hurt her feet.

She took a good look at her surroundings. All the fish were gone. Some tanks still had water in them; others were dry, and others were broken, but all of them were dirty and dull. The whole place looked dirty and dull. She didn't mind; she merely wondered why, and slowly started walking towards the exit, still unsure of everything. Was it possible that this was some sort of afterlife?

Or is it just a dream? she thought, as she stepped out on the street. It was dark outside.
 
Josuha had barely had enough time to take another breath after his outburst before the world turned upside down.

He didn't know where they were going. He didn't even know why Danielle was bothering to drag him with her. He'd only slow her down. Even so, he didn't let go of her hand, and managed not to trip as they pushed through the doors and into the depths of the city he'd only just begun to get acquainted with. Neither did he tighten his grip. He was too distracted for that.

If what Tyson had said was true, and it clearly was, the scratching would come back. It would follow him here- wherever he went- and when it chose to reveal itself, he wouldn't be prepared. He'd try to be, but there was no telling whether or not he'd have time to grow a spine in the meantime.
 
Darkness. He always found himself inside when the lights went out. This time however, he was too pissed. He had been here for a month. A WHOLE MONTH. He was tired of this place. Sick of the grey monotone existence. He should be home, with two hands to work on his truck. His truck... he turned around and looked at it, or the miserable shell of it anyway. He had never actually tried to see if it still ran. Maybe he could drive out of this worthless town...

Ping. Ping. PingPingPingPing.

It sounded like rain at first, but no, not rain. Shotgun shells. It was raining shotgun shells. Looking down he wondered at them. How is it rainin shotgun shells? He kicked at them. They were taunting him, taunting his place and his actions.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

He kicked at them again, knocking five or six that were on the ground out accross the street. Grumbling and fuming he took cover underneath his garage. Now he could hear them better, the sounds of metal falling en masse on the roof of his garage. His face reddened. He wanted to yell at someone, but there was no one to yell at. Just the shadows. Those dark dreary shadows of nighttime.

He moved over to the stool and took a seat to try and calm down.

Creeeaaaak. Crack!

The roof. It was about to cave in under the pressure. The rotted building was about to become his tomb. He lept from the stool and bolted for the door that should lead to the rest of his home.

Creeeak.

He fumbled in his pocket for his keys, trying to out run the soon to be caved in room. He then remembered,,, he had no hands to put the keys in the lock... "FUCK YOU YOU STUPID FUCKING DOOR I SWEAR TO FUCKING FUCK!"

CRACK!

In the span of about a second and a half a few things happened. Jethro threw his arms over his head to try and shield himself. The roof, bowed under the weight of shells, split right down the middle. Jethro could feel as if he was tearing in two, right before the mass of drywall, wood and shotgun shells fell over him.

He laid there buried under the mass. Tears grew in his eye. He could hear the shotgun shells falling, though it seemed as if they were not falling as hard now. This gave him a sliver of hope. He began to push himself up digging his way out of the pile slowly.

Once he reached the top, a shotgun shell landed right on his good eye. Though he was right, the rain and decreased to a trickle now. Like a calm before a storm. He sniffed. Gunpowder, fire, flesh, hair. The same smells he witnessed on the day of his death. Though sronger, more pronounced, like it was taunting him even more.

This was too much. He could not take anymore of this. It was too much he just wanted out. Wiping the tears from his eye, he pulled out of the pile. His truck, was done for, having recieved the brunt of the cave in. He was crushed, he could not even gather the energy to yell, to be mad. He simply stood and stared. Everything was gone. It was there, but in ruins.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

There it was, those blasted shotgun blasts. It brought him into a frenzy enough to be angry again. His face heated again he bolted through the rubble kicking beams and shell out of the way.

"COME AND GET ME WHY DONT YOU! SHOW YOUR FACE YOU COWARDLY FUCK!"
 
What sounded like a wheeze erupted from the woman's throat as Kimberly took in many impossible occurrences with her eyes. As the books flapped to the floor like birds being shot down, one by one, joining each other in a frenzy of pages and hardcovers, she could feel her cheeks twitch gently. A disturbance nearby brought the hairs on her body up like pins against the skin, a sound was bouncing off the shelves beside her, coming to her ears. A sickly twisting, cracking, some sort of material that reminded her of how her parents use to remove the shell from lobsters, the only way to reach the succulent, buttery, fleshy inner covering. Turning around, her vision focused upon a woman. Or.. well, it had long hair, and a skinnier face. Was it a woman? She did waste a few seconds trying to determine if this was true or not of what she was seeing that moment. By doing so, she quickly took note of how close It was coming to her, an odd grin placed upon It's face. It's tongue wiggled against the rims of It's lips and teeth, without control, like a wild animal, slurping up the air, the scent of prey.
A step backwards, and the room suddenly took on a different persona. Moving, as if on a runaway trailer, gravity from the shift in the room was taking toll on Kim's body. Trying her hardest not to lose her own feet, her hand reached out blindly, taking hold the end of one book shelf, the one that held books "K - M". Whimpering softly trickled along her tongue, thinking quickly, looking around to analyze the situation. The door to the outside world was on a slight angle, to the left of her. Eyeing the shelf that would be placed before the one she supported herself with, doubtful thoughts lingered against the mind. But this was no time for doubt.
As speed was building, feeling the push against her stomach, wanting to fall backwards and give in to the energetic pull, Kim shook her head and looked down at her hand holding the TMP. Staring down, her fingers lost their grip on purpose, dropping the weapon as it fell down with a thud to the floor. Glancing backwards to watch the item slip down the carpet, a wince flicked her tongue downwards, snapping back to the distorted body worming itself over to her. Squinting at the Thing, a gurgle, what would be her way of cursing, gave out from her chest. Kim didn't feel like giving up today. That was just a fact.
Red strands flashed against the darkness of the bookstore as Kimberly rounded her shoulders to her ears. Spine rolled up and over, a lunge for the next bookshelf was issued, chest out, as well as arms outstretched and legs. Clasping the edge with her fingertips, a gasp left her as she pulled herself slowly up, hugging the wooden ends, hoping it was strong enough still to hold together. She wasn't too sure how old this place was, but she was trying not to remind herself it could break away at any moment. She had to focus, she was now on "H - J". There were three shelves left, the checkout line area, and then the door.​
 
Closer, closer – a shadowed figure beamed an expression of harrowing intent, its hellish maroon eyes gleaming with vindictive ambition. The odour of the creature was overpowering and vulgar, he could hear the pad of its paws pounding against the earth, its breath grinding against the creature's sharp teeth. Running for any of the remainder of a soul that Tai still had in this nefarious city; no, this was not a city. It was a graveyard. A marauding howl came from behind him. Although Tai knew he could run for a while, he could not run forever. Soon enough, he would have to stop. Running would do him no good, he'd have to try and hide. </SPAN>

For the first time in a long time, Tai felt a cold tremor run throughout his body. The sensation of this strange if you wanted to call it a world were pulling him in as if its arms were tugging and pulling at him into a dark void of lost emotion. No, my family! I must get back to my family. His beloved family… </SPAN>
A single tear fell from the depths of his eyes, padding softly onto the concrete floor, only to be left behind. Motionless as it sank deep into the holes of the concrete floor, then to dry and never be seen again. A vengeance filled Tai's eye at the thought of his brother. Along with that a sharp pain entered his body. "Ah, shit." He looked down at where his brother had shot him, to see pools of blood seeping through his clothing. Time would not wait for him; neither would the abomination that followed Tai so attentively. </SPAN>

Swiftly, Tai found the back entrance to a building; it was still intact but shabby and uninviting. Approaching a glass door, he swore as he tried to pull the latch. It wasn't working. The murderous howl came closer. Thoughts whipped around Tai's head rapidly, finally after a couple of seconds he came up with a solution. With a strong punch, he broke the glass and opened the latch from the inside. Hoping the monster wouldn't follow too quickly. Fleetly he rushed into the building quickly closing the glass or what remained of it behind him. A, great where to hide? Crap. Where to hide? Observing his surroundings he saw a receptionist's desk, he'd hide in one of the cabinets. </SPAN>

Climbing hastily into one of the cabinets behind the reception desk, he closed the door. It was dark. Waiting…ever waiting in hope that the creature would pass him by.</SPAN>
 
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