No More Shadows

A Story by Mysterious_Pen

An apocalyptic scenario showcasing the final moments of a small group of survivors.

The howls worshiping the blood red moon were ceaseless all throughout the night. On the faces of the few remaining survivors was an always present facade exclaiming that everything was okay, and that they would live to see a future. Whether they were trying to trick others or just themselves, I do not know. Some frantically searched for busy work in a desperate attempt to keep their minds occupied, others wept in the shadows dancing off of the campfire. Though many would not allow themselves to accept it, all knew that they were dead. The last hope of the group was dashed when they got the final radio transmission declaring the Huntington stockade was over run like a few bugs trying to survive an army of ants. The dark of night felt timeless, as if it would drag on forever. Yet time felt short, as if every passing breath was a gift, a delicacy that was rapidly running out of supply. But that damn howling, and those f*****g creatures, it was enough to drive anyone insane. The night the world ends, there were no great speeches, no rescue plan, no heroes, and no tomorrow. The explosions and the gun shots in the night had long gone silent. The world was ending, not with a bang as most men had predicted, but with a whimper. A small flame being snuffed out in the cold of night. The monstrous roar in the darkness was growing louder as more joined in chorus. The frigid air was the only thing that could sting hard enough to pierce the fear that had clutched the hearts of the survivors, making its presence welcome. Having devoured its last source of fuel, the weak flames of the fire flickered and fainted...and then extinguished.

The howling ceased.

The screams began.

Darkness.