by Chad A. Clark
I don’t know how to tell who’s real anymore, the normal ones and the others; reflections of what they think humans expect to see in each other. The problem is that even though on the inside they are nothing but rot, from the outside they look just like you and me.
Ever since the ships came down, life has been mostly spent wishing I had insight that just isn’t there. I can get close enough to look into a person’s eyes and still have no idea if their soul is even there anymore. All of this because of the ships.
I still haven’t met anyone who believes me. Every minute is like coming out of a coma. Sometimes I catch myself falling asleep and sometimes I wake up screaming. Sometimes I can’t tell one from the other. I hear things and I don’t know if it's real or if I really am going crazy.
But I saw those ships.
I know they were here. All of them, hatching and spreading like a virus. And plotting. I see our end in their beginning here. I see death in the sky, fire on the horizon. I'll unlock the key and I will figure out how to tell them from us. When that day comes, woe unto them and vengeance I shall be.
I will be our savior.
3 comments:
Woho, I like this! Nice imagery and just mysterious enough so you don't know if it's real or in the narrator's head. I like the foreboding, the sense of impending apocalypse...
Like the ambiguity of this. It makes me want to keep reading as to where it might go.
Thanks Dino!
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