Apocalypse
The world ended the day the virus came. Not with a bang, but with whispers—the coughs, the screams, the sudden madness in the eyes of the people I knew. One moment, the city was alive; the next, it was crawling with shadows that weren’t human. I woke to the sound of glass breaking somewhere down the street. Smoke rose over rooftops, painting the sky a sickly orange. Sirens wailed in the distance, fading in and out like ghosts. And then I saw them. Figures stumbling and jerking unnaturally, faces twisted, mouths moving in silent hunger.
About Apocalypse
The world ended the day the virus came. Not with a bang, but with whispers—the coughs, the screams, the sudden madness in the eyes of the people I knew. One moment, the city was alive; the next, it was crawling with shadows that weren’t human. I woke to the sound of glass breaking somewhere down the street. Smoke rose over rooftops, painting th...Read more