Therefore I am

            Suicide, an option that doesn’t seem too far gone. There would be no longer a point in living as I am now, so why not just die? Give my body to the wild animals and just cease to be. I stare down the barrel of my death, but I am too much of a coward to pull the trigger. Metal clatters on the stone floor as I throw the gun away from me. I tuck my knees to my chin and soak my sleeves with my tears, thinking about the events that conspired and led to this fate. How does one go on living when all that you knew to be, all that existed, just…. perished? Trapped in this damp and unlit basement, it is inconceivable to be able to stay positive. The food supply is almost gone, the room reeks of urine and feces, and I haven’t drank clean water in two months.

            A scratching sound from the door shakes me out of my episode. I slowly raise my head to look in the direction of the washing room. Whoever lived here luckily kept their food in a separate area than their clothes, else that Prowler would have eaten it all. It was, by pure luck, that I was able to trap it in there. I cannot fathom how it is still alive, going almost three months without food, but it is a strange creature. I try to not think of it too much, but the terrifying beast rips into my mind. The sickly green skin, the bones protruding from the flesh, the revolting smell, all of it plagues my memory. However, there is one characteristic of Prowlers that sets them apart from any horror imaginable. Their faces are…. They are human faces.

            Last I had heard of, no one knew what these things were, or where they came from. I haven’t been outside in three months so I don’t even know if anyone else is alive, let alone studying the Prowlers. Only two things are known about them, they take over the bodies of humans under the age of 18, and when they are about to attack, their “human” faces smile. When it became public, most of kids across the nation were put in lock down so they didn’t become these things. But, most of them did anyways. Countless news stories reported on how families would go to feed their children, only to be mutilated by a new born Prowler. Thinking on it now, that is another strange thing about them. They don’t eat the things they kill. The Prowlers just kill. It’s almost as if it’s for fun.

            I shake my head and slap my hands on my cheeks. I have to stop thinking about this, else I’m going to get more depressed. I slowly stand up and make my way over to the corner where my “bed”, a bunch of flattened boxes, lies. I take my shirt and pants off, and hang them on a pipe to dry. The dampness of this basement had soaked into them and I needed them to be dry while I was awake. Staring at the ceiling, I realize that I do not need to force myself to sleep, exhaustion does that for me. My eyes become heavy as I try to fight, but eventually drift off into a heavy sleep.

            I’m awoken by a loud crash and quickly sit up. Putting on my glasses, I realize that it is 8 am. There shouldn’t be anyone in my house awake at 8 am on a Saturday. Dad doesn’t wake up till about 11, and my mom is usually at the gym by now. I quietly walk to my closet and grab my hockey stick. Slowly opening my door, I hear more noise from the garage. I calm myself, take a deep breath, and jump into the garage hockey stick at the ready. My mom and dad stand there looking very confused. I laugh and apologize about scaring them. They stare at me, then look to each other, then back to me. That’s when I notice the truck packed full of our belongings.

            I ask if we are going on a trip, but they don’t answer. Dad nods his head to mom and she quickly climbs in the truck. My dad grabs my shoulder and leads me into the kitchen. He starts talking about how much he loves me, and how much I mean to him and mom, and how it’s for my own good. I don’t really know what they are talking about, but it worries me and I start to tear up. He pushes me away and walks back to the garage. I run after him screaming for them not to leave me, and that I love them. As I enter the doorway, I feel something strike me in the stomach and blackness takes over.

            This time I’m woken up by screaming. It is high pitched, and mixed with sobbing. Sounds like a girl. I groan as I stand up and notice the two by four lying in front of me. I freeze as I realize what happened. My dad….my own flesh and blood…. Struck me, knocked me out, and then left me. Without even feeling it, tears begin to flow down my face. I stagger to the door and step outside. It is mid-afternoon, but that seems irrelevant to what’s happening around me. Children, toddlers, and teenagers of all ages are outside their homes, crying, screaming, and fighting. Countless windows are shattered, doors are broken, and there is even blood in the street. The high pitched screaming is indeed coming from the girl across the road. She is just sitting next to the blood in the street crying. I follow the blood trail and notice, with a violent shock, the body of her younger brother, twisted and mangled, a few yards away.

            I back up into the house and lock the door. I am at a lost for thoughts, my body feels numb, and I don’t know what to do. My body acts almost instinctively as I go to the kitchen and make breakfast. Cap’n Crunch, milk, and a banana nut muffin. As I’m preparing them, I feel the grumbles from my stomach and finally notice how hungry I am. I devour the food and head to my room to change my clothes. Being back in my comfortable jeans and band tee, I feel more relaxed. As I’m brushing my teeth, I hear a voice from the living room. I walk in and notice it’s the TV. I turn it up and drop my toothbrush from my gaping mouth as the headlines scroll across the screen.

“Families ordered to abandon children due to Prowler outbreaks”

            The cold chill takes over my body again as I fully understand the situation. My parents deserted me. They feared I would become a Prowler, and so they left. Just as all the other parents of the neighborhood had. I quickly run outside and notice that most of the other kids are gone. Most of them probably went into their houses. That’s what I thought, until I heard someone scream something incomprehensible. I look to my right and notice the group of people a few houses down. I sprint to the back of the group and look up to where everyone else is looking. There is a boy, standing on the roof, with a shotgun pointed at his chin.

            Horror overcomes me as I can’t even mutter a single word to stop him. The loud shot echoes as the crowd becomes silent. Everyone just stares as the headless body falls to the pavement. The silence is broken by the sound of breaking bones and blood erupting from the body as it hits the ground. Chaos ensues as everyone screams and scatters back to their homes. I stand there silent and in shock as people push by me to get away. It feels as if I cannot control my own body as I walk to the body and stare down at it. I notice the shotgun lying next to him and start to reach for it. A noise stops me though. It starts as a deep, but faint, humming.

An unknown sound to me, terror grips my stomach as I slowly turn and look to the skies. Seven, eight, no….ten. Ten jets are flying over the town. They still look relatively small in the distance, but the small black specks and explosion beneath them are big enough for me to know what’s happening. The realization jolts me out of the shock and I sprint into the house. I try to find something, anything to hide under, or behind, and notice the basement door. I swing it open as the world around me explodes.

            I shiver as my eyes fly open, and I realize that I’m in the basement. I slowly sit up and put my hands on my head, realizing it was all just a dream. Well, more like a memory than a dream. I sigh as I stand up and grab my clothes. They are mostly dry, but still a little damp. I grudgingly put them on and think back to that day. Everyone probably died from those bombs, so why didn’t I? I shudder and remember something happier. It was a saying my grandfather always told me, “Whenever you are feeling down, or feel that you don’t belong on this Earth, just say to yourself, I think therefore I am.” I mumble those words and stand up a little straighter.

            I go over and pick up the gun from where it was lying. The smell hit me first, and as I reached down I knew what it was. The gun was sitting in a small pool of laundry detergent. I pick it up and puzzle over why the gun was in detergent, when it wasn’t there before. I hear a click and grit my teeth as I realize what happened. I quickly turn towards the door and point the gun. There is a very faint light coming from the doorway, I nearly drop the gun when the face comes into view. It is a blond girl, bright blue eyes, a young face, probably eight or nine years old. I hadn’t realized it when I first locked her in there, because I wasn’t focused on details.

            But now as I stare at this young girls face, so innocently staring back at me, I feel a sense of regret. I felt to blame for this situation, like it was my fault she became one of the Prowlers. I’m too much in a frozen state of shock to realize that the once innocent face, was now smiling at me, mouth full of horrible sharpened teeth. Its giggle is what snapped me back to reality, a high pitched giggle. Now I wasn’t sad. I felt no more regret. Anger and a primal sense of survival were the only things I felt. It laughed again and then lunged at me, so fast I barely saw it move. I began pulling the trigger as fast as I could. The bullets hammered into its body but didn’t seem to have any effect.

            I dove to the side as it flew past me, claws extended. I flipped open the chamber and saw that I only had two bullets left. This is it. If I don’t kill it with these last two, I’m done for. I square my body and take a deep breath as it turns towards me again. That giggle echoes throughout the basement as it jumps again. I slowly take aim, and time seems to slow down. Right between the eyes, that’s where the blood erupted as the bullet flew through its skull. I smiled as I knew that it was dead when its eyes rolled into its head. However, fate is cruel, and physics is natural. The momentum of its jump sent its claws plunging straight into my chest.

            I fell backwards and landed against a wall. I slid down the wall with the Prowler’s claws scraping the wall behind me. I cough and feel the warm liquid as it dribbles down my chin and sprays on my arm. This is the end. But I won’t let this thing beat me. Suicide, an option that doesn’t seem too far gone. There would be no longer a point in living as I am now, so why not just die? I stare down the barrel of my death, but I’m not too much of a coward now. I close my eyes, say out loud, I think therefore I am, and pull the trigger. 

Author's Note

I'm open to all sorts of critique