The year is 2113. The world has suffered the consequences of global climate change and now enters a time of terror as a rolling Black Death unlike any before it surges through the land.
I drifted off into a fitful sleep and continued a terrifying and vivid dream, a night terror that seemed to appear more and more frequently:
A sense of untold horror pervaded. An evil older than time itself had taken hold long ago. Had seized control. Children circled in the dark trash strewn street. Now they were coming for me. Gathering around me. Sealing all exits. By the glimmering light I saw them all of them. Creatures barely human. Still I recognized them. In the fading light they moved and shuffled about, tilting add odd angles, all heading in one direction, destination unseen yet infinitely knowing. A young boy came toward me. Blood dripping from his eyes, down his face. He falls backward and is fully transformed. Crawls toward me like a crab on the ground, arms bent back at impossible angles.
A windmill in the foreground spun its creaking blades. I ran away from it. From them. Determined to escape. At any cost. But each exit. Each road. Each path. Returned me to the place I had begun. In their midst. In their grasp. Trapped in their terror. Religion doesn't know how to convey the anatomy of horror. It seeks discipline through fear. They don't understand the true nature of creation. No one's ever believed it enough to make it real. Always looking for the con. Even now I'm trying to rationalize. This work makes you mad. When people begin to lose the difference between fantasy and reality, the door to the other side swings wide open. Making it easier for them to come through. They have always been here. Always watching. Always lurking, that creeping, slouching, hideous monster that invades our childhood dreams. But these are no dreams. Not in the way science terms them. That which those self appointed rational thinkers call fantasy. They are not dreams but glimpses of a steadily simmering future. The thin veil rips. Grows wider.
The creatures of the other side start to come over. Exploding into our so called real world shriek by shriek. Slice by slice.
Black as the deepest pits of hell. Flashing lights and booming sound signal their entry. This is reality. Reality is just what we tell each other it is. But it's a flip flop. A turnaround. When all that you've known as sanity is shown to be insanity, you find yourself alone in the belief that it is otherwise. I know what I am. I know what is real. This is no fiction. My world lies beyond that passage. They can't be held back any longer. The end draws terrifyingly near. Staring into the illimitable world of the unknown. The stygian blood pit, an enormous carrion white pit. Churned with the unhallowed bones of centuries. Hanging onto the frail edge of reality. Clutching the crumbling edge of sanity. Madness has come to claim me.
The city is almost completely deserted now. More and more people are becoming infected. People are distorting. Mutating. Their bodies turning into hideous creatures.
Cannibalism runs amok. Mass violence and killings everywhere. Senseless, unprovoked violence. A rampant swarm of unfocused rage sweeping through every town. Every city. Expressing itself through mass mutilations and dismembering. The streets run red with blood.