April 19, 2008

• We were like vampires and they were zombies. Their existence led us to sleepless dusks, nights, and dawns. But the house we had found seemed impenetrable. Set atop a hill in the middle of a forest, we dared to let the comfort seep in. To be betrayed by your shelter was not new a thing. But we were tired. We sought solace in the imaginary possibility that we could possibly live here. That is, until the children came.

  They ran through the inferno raging outside our perimeter. They found our abode. They tried to find protection behind our walls and we were foolish enough to let them in. They are only children, we thought. What harm could they bring?

  But in these times and these lands, empathy is a liability. As I held the children behind the staircase, I heard that familiar skittering of strangers. They’ve led the monsters straight to us.

  We ran towards the cellar and locked it from atop. We hunched in the corner and waited for the noises above to stop. They were screaming, and wailing, and throwing everything around. I knew we could not stay here if we survived the night.

  Morning came and we had to burn the white house on top of the hill. I looked at my companions and I saw the familiar defeat in their eyes. We were vagabonds again.

  • 10:34 pm
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