▐ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙒𝘼𝙇𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝘿.
𝐨𝐨𝐨．𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌．
❝ 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘪'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦
𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴 ❞
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𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 ᴀᴜʀᴏʀᴀ ɢʀɪᴍᴇs,
world comes to an end and is now
ruled b...
apocalypse: the complete final destruction of the world, as described in the biblical book of Revelation.
an event involving destruction or damage on a catastrophic scale.
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𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑺𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 Prologue
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( 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 )
I moved the pencil in a slow up in down motion creating a shade like effect on the tree I had just drawn.
The full moon light that shone down on the small meadow I sat in proved me enough light to be able to draw the few green leaf trees that sat just a few feet in front of me. I wasn't suppose to be out. I was suppose to be in my sweaty blue polyester sleeping bag I'd called my bed the last two months. Suppose to be sleeping next to my little brother who usually crawled into our mother's sleeping bag that laid across the tent. That was usually after he'd have woken up from a nightmare.
I too was victim to the same haunting nightmares. Although I never crawled to the safety of my mother, I usually just put on a brave face and said I was fine. I never was though. I don't think anyone in our little camp was fine. Hell, I doubt anyone in the country was fine. Not when at any given moment you or your loved ones could be taken. My uncle Shane calls them Geeks. Just one bite and become one. I've only ever seen one once. They don't come up this far north, on the hill top my camp was set up on. They looked like people... only not. With green pale skin thats half fallen off, blood shot eyes that are widen and unblinking. All they do is walk. Walk slowly across the ground until they run into a living soul... then they jump.
I felt a shiver run down my spine at the thought.
I drew my knees to my chest, balancing my worn out sketchbook on the top of my knee caps. It was one of the things I'd brought in my backpack the day of the evacuation. It was a rush of grabbing as much as we could fit in our small five seater car and later how much we could carry with our bare hands. While mom worried about the essentials, I worried about possessions.
Things I could physically live without but mentally could not. I grabbed my sketchbook that's pages were filled with drawing done by my fourteen year old self. Of course after two years the book was almost completely filled up. I grabbed my stuffed blue bear which I creative named "blue bear" that I'd had since I was a baby. It was a worn out bear who was more grey than blue and had lost one of its ears. Mom tells me I was a very aggressive toddler.
