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Killing is currency

Killing is currency

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación vie, abr 25, 2025
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Ficción
Histórica
"Have you ever wondered what would've happened if the Great Depression never ended? Like, if the whole country just stayed broke, hungry, and desperate forever? No bounce-back. No recovery. Just a slow, starving crawl into madness. Well, here's how it'd go down: First? Population control. People would look around and realize there's too many mouths and not enough scraps. The weak, the sick, the useless-they'd vanish. Quiet at first. Then not so quiet. Next, they'd need caretakers, people to 'handle' the dying, the sick, the unwanted. That's where the first dirty jobs come from-nurses, grave diggers, body cleaners. All of them paid in scraps, favors, maybe meat. Then, like any good American tragedy, someone smells money. Business starts booming. Suddenly, there are storefronts selling 'mercy,' vendors offering 'clean deaths,' back alley surgeons trading limbs for rations. And then the government steps in-not to stop it. To organize it. They call it structure. You call it survival. And then comes the killing. Murder becomes a service. Death becomes a transaction. And the worst part? People get used to it. Welcome to a country where murder is currency and cannibalism is common sense. The American Dream didn't die. It just got hungry
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I woke to a sudden breeze invading the warmth from the heavy blanket that caressed my skin. Here, alone with my thoughts, the still, calm quiet in the atmosphere is almost painful. I feel suffocated in the clingy, static air. In quiet, still moments like these, I can almost feel Him. I don't know who "Him" is, but I can feel his presence. It's almost calming, especially on fearful, anxiety fueled nights. Usually, he was the strongest when I had a nightmare. The nightmares weren't as common now, but, right after everything happened, I was having them every night. I'd wake up and swear I was drenched in blood, my eyes and lips sticky, my nose filled with the smell of iron and fuel. After everything, that's when Him first came. From there, he just never left. I can usually sense when Him is near. Today, though, his presence is stronger. I can almost feel Him next to me, weighing down the mattress. Some nights, I roll over and imagine how he looks, envision his smile or the sparkle in his eyes. He's never there and I'm left clutching to the thought that he exists, staring into empty air. Tonight, though, I swear I can reach out and touch him. Extending my hand gently, I sweep my hand out into the darkness and meet an inexplicable warmth. A scream rips from my lungs as hands cover my face and two icy blue eyes stare back at me, daring me to speak again. A soft cloth caressed my nose and mouth before I felt myself fade into bed. All Rights Reserved. Contains graphic descriptions of violence and assault. Contains battle scene.

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