You’re man. He’s a few meters in front

You’re scared of waking, yet you wake up. You wonder, has it been moments, minutes, hours, days? You’re disoriented, your head is spinning, your eyes are fuzzy, but you are awake. You try to gather your thoughts, but you have none. Where are you? You don’t recognize these paintings on the wall, these fruits in the bowl, the lifeless piano. You don’t recognise these human bodies scattered along the floor. The harsh truth of reality strikes you. Who are these people? Your eyes narrow, you have trouble breathing.

Your lips shrink. Blood drains from your brain. You bring yourself together.

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You peek out the window. Men, women, children, sleeping, yet their eyes are open. You see someone.

A human. Walking down the road. You exit the room at a fast pace. You run towards the person, a middle-aged man. He’s a few meters in front of you, and he drops.

You rest your head on his heart. THUMP THUMP, his heart’s beats like that of a horse. He sleeps, just like the others. Why, you ask. Why is this happening. You face the sky. Tears roll down your cheeks. And then, it hits you.

The reason. The answer to this madness. It first started in small villages, then moved to the tundra. Soon to your home town. People will fall from awake to sleep, and won’t un-sleep into waking for days, maybe weeks. Then when you wake into the re-waking, you see nothing but men wearing hazmat suits. They speak “The virus has woken”. You think, what virus.

Before you finish thinking you get hit. The worst pain imaginable, in the worst place imaginable. AAHHH! You scream, but nothing comes out. You feel dizzy, and your vision goes blank. You wake up again. You remember nothing, except the desolate dream of the dreams. In your memories you see men, in full body hazmat suits, marching towards an island.

They pass through several air lock clean rooms. Water, soil, air are all tested. A bodies own fluids will be bound to stand trail. The kyle and the chyme, the blood and the bile, the exudates gastric juice and serum, will all beg for mercy, like the lymph and the mucus, the urine and the saliva. You see brains, lungs, hearts being dissected with scanners, scalpels, with forceps and trimmers.

Many important words are used; Pandemic outbursts of mass hysteria, syndromic malady of conditional discordant infection, but the others, whom look like you and speak like you, all say nothing but the plague, or sickness.Experiments are conducted. What must be done is done. Nothing can be found wrong. No cell will confess to the condition, no cavity will disclose information.

The main land government decides to let you go free for your final days, humanity’s final days. You decide to go home. You walk alone on the paths through the forest, and along again through your city.

You walk alone, but you are not alone. Many hide behind their doors, locked in their house, on different streets, and different rooms. Your long and tedious journey comes to an end. You feel drowsy, heavy eyes.

You roll up your red curtains. Roll it up to stay awake. You roll it up, but you sit down. You roll it up, but you rest one eye. You roll it up, but you lie down. You’ve grown tired of all this. Whatever all this is.

You surrender. You give in, and let the disease inside consume you. This is where it ends. You take your final breath, knowing it will be the last, and with a soft sigh you go to sleep.


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