Makayla Winstead

Death of a Nephilim

I can remember everything so well. It felt so real, I’m sure that it actually happened. It had to. The first thing I remember was me running into a large room that looked like some sort of 1920s ticket booth. It was shielded by a glass wall that stood on top of a long desk and wrapped around the perimeter. The glass had black handprints on it, and some even dragged down the glass. It creeped me out a bit, to be honest. A humongous room that was about the size of a hotel lobby laid outside of it and seemed like it had been abandoned for years. I looked around the small room for something that I couldn’t quite remember what for but that is probably the reason why I came up with nothing. As I began to panic, I started to scan my surroundings once more and came to the realization of one important fact: there wasn't another soul in sight.