The day society broke

Prologue

The crimson sticky blood covers my arm, all the way to my elbow. The blood is everywhere, between my nails, on my chest, on the walls. It paints the walls a beautiful color, a deep violent color. As I sit back and enjoy my art work I feel the blood rush to my head. The orchestra in my head starts pounding, a beautiful and mournful melody fills the air. My moment of pure bliss is ruined by the gasping of mother. Oh how she wheezes now, her beautiful face drain from color now. She simply didn't understand why she part of my art work, I tried and begged for her to.understand my reason, but all she.dis was struggle and beg. Oh how beautiful she was, but now she is beautiful in my art work. But, what's this, I hear a slow and unsure steps up my staircase. As if a large toddler was walking up these stairs, then it started pounding and clawing at the door. With a final burst of of energy it burst through. It was nothing I seen before, it was a man. But he had no color in his body, he had no.intelligence behind those eyes, only a primal hunger. I stood to face him, my sharpened brush in hand. He lunged towards me, I could see the empty veins in his.neck as my brush sliced his jugular. Nothing came out as if he had no blood, but he was alive. Wasn't he? I quickly turn to pierce his skull when he is already on me. His body smells of rot, like the graveyard nearby, it's sickening but I manage to push his.bulk off me. I thrust my blade deep.into his skull, piercing the spinal cord. His body goes limp and lays there. The blood rushes to my head once again but instead of my beautiful orchestra playing it's all sour notes. Reverberating in my skull, the sound sickens me and I crawl away. I stand up and leave my tainted art work and decide there is one explanation to this. It was the living dead, or as I would later call them sour notes.