It's one of those disease apocalypse kind of stories, with a little something more. I think.


Enjoy…If that's your thing.

Black and Red

I stared at the girl in front of me.

She gazed back at me steadily, black eyes blazing. "Think."

"Think what?" I ask with my eyes. I don't know who she is. I don't know how long she's been here with me, all I know is she may as well have been around for as long as I could talk. "Think what?"

"Think! Who am I?" She says, baring her small, pointy teeth. "You have done your best to ignore me, but here I am. I am the only constant in your life. Who am I?"

"Do I know you…" I mutter. It's more of a statement than a question. I think I know her. But I don't know…

She has one of those ageless faces, with a pointed chin and a pointier nose. Wide, bloodshot eyes.

She is small for whatever age she might be, and needs to gain ten pounds. Maybe even twenty. But I don't remember anyone with such features…Do I? No, I think, I can't and I won't.

I cough, and lick my lips. I taste the blood that isn't mine. It's delicious.

"Think, you blithering idiot!" She screams this out, pointing at the fresh pile of corpses nearby. "You try to make me go away by hurting these people (you sick fucking bastard). What am I?"

"I don't know!" I cry, pressing my hands to my eyes. If I ignored her, maybe she'd finally go away.

She doesn't. My stomach growls, still not aware that it can't be fed, because I'm wasting the food.

"Okay. Maybe a more general description." The lasers she calls eyes are no longer burning my face, and her voice turns syrupy, sickly sweet. "I…am how you humans all know what happiness is. Everyone, some time or another, gets to know me." She waits for me to look at her. When I don't, she goes on. "When death came to your life, I grew stronger and made myself known to you. When this new disease struck the world, my strength grew tenfold. As a matter of fact, the four horsemen* themselves beget me. I'm not here just 'cause of you, Mr. Immunity. I feed on the world." Her eyes grow closer. Everything, the warehouse I've taken shelter, the dead and everything, has faded. All I can feel and know for sure is there are those pitch black eyes. "Who. Am. I."

Silence. It stretches on, a rubber band about to snap.

Then I let my bloodied hands fall. I can feel the sticky wetness of black blood on my face.

"Misery."

She smiles and coos mockingly, patting my cheek. "Clever boy."


*Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: War, Pestilence, Famine, and Death.

Thanks for reading!

P.S.-Just to clarify, this nutball is a starving psychopath in the middle of this virus apocalypse.

The wasted food he's talking about? The corpses. A common feature in cannibals is the a joy in drinking (or just tasting) blood.