Chardonnay and The Apocalypse

The world will soon end, and I'm almost out of wine. Humankind has peaked. Between reality television, cable news, and fast-food chicken sandwiches, there is no other place for society to go but down. I come off as a bit tired in this, but what am I supposed to think when society, especially here, has flown over the cuckoo's nest? So when the nuclear bombs fall, I will just sit back and drink some Chardonnay while listening to old-school rhythm and blues.

There has been a run on guns, toilet paper, and pet food. Stores continue to be looted as the clock winds down. Chaos and unrest fill the streets in every major city, suburb, and small town.

But as I sit here in my lonely apartment, looking out my bedroom window and watching the streets below fill with panic and chaos, something begins to feel off. The air grows thick with an unfamiliar tension, a weighty sense of dread settling over everything like a cold blanket.

There is no television signal. My cell phone doesn't work either; modern ways of communication are no more. As darkness shrouds the streets below me, I hear strange sounds echoing up from outside, with low murmurs almost like chanting. Fear grips me tightly with its clammy hands; what is happening now?

Suddenly, there's a deep rumbling noise from beneath my feet; at first, it is distant and muffled but steadily growing louder until it feels like every wall around me is vibrating in time to some dark underground heartbeat.

The chants grow louder. Now, they are joined by screams of terror and wailing sirens. As I peer out the window, shadows materialize in the darkness. At first, they seem like nothing more than pitch-black blobs moving along with the crowd on the streets below. But their shapes become more transparent as they climb my building's exterior walls.

They are not human. The elongated limbs and jagged features give them away as something otherworldly. I shrink into my apartment suite, afraid that even a whisper will attract their attention. Yet despite this instinctual reticence of mine, some strange force seems to draw them directly towards me.

The chanting now fills every corner of my being; it is no longer audible but a pulsating vibration from within me, causing an ache in every muscle fiber. The unearthly beings outside inch closer. Once again comes that deep rumbling noise beneath my feet, and then there's an eruption. The floor splits open, revealing a gaping chasm that descends into the darkness below. From this abyss emerges an even more horrific sight: grotesque forms with wings and horns, their eyes aglow with fire.

I stumble back, my heart racing with sheer terror. This cannot happen; it is like a nightmare I can't wake up from. But the creatures continue to pour out of the chasm, their forms writhing and contorting in ways that are impossible for any normal being.

With my wine glass of chardonnay, I stare at the monstrous spectacle unfolding before me. The chanting becomes more intense with every passing moment. It is a language beyond my comprehension but fills me with overwhelming dread.

My heart pounds violently as an instinctual urge to flee or fight surges through my veins. But fear clamps down, locking me in place, where all I can do is gulp the wine down my throat and feel it burn. With newfound courage, I hammer the glass against the wall until shards of glass sprinkle savagely around me.

"Come on, you fuckers!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

The creatures skid to a halt at my voice, their heads whipping around as if unsure whether to flee or attack. Their eyes glared at me with untamed ferocity, daring me to make one wrong move. My heart pounds in my chest like a drum, and I can feel their rage radiating off them like heat from the sun.

"Come on!" I shout again, holding up the broken glass stem like a weapon. "Let's do this!"

The creatures let out a loud roar and began moving toward me in unison. Instead of striking out at me with claws or teeth, they suddenly stopped at the sound of a high-pitched whistle. A dark, ominous figure in a long black coat appeared at the edge of my vision, holding a silver whistle to their lips.

The creatures immediately ceased their advance, instead turning towards the dark figure with recognition. My heart hammered in my chest as I watched them huddle around this mysterious entity, almost as if they were taking orders from it.

I closed my eyes for a moment before finally opening them again. The creatures were gone, vanished into thin air without a trace. And so was the dark figure, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

My weakened legs tremble as I stumble toward the kitchen, fingers outstretched like claws. I grasp the neck of a half-empty bottle of chardonnay and bring it to my lips with swift desperation. Just as I swallow, an ear-piercing siren blares from outside, and everything around me is illuminated by a brilliant white light. A shockwave levers through my body as the apartment rumbles, floorboards creaking under invisible pressure. The wine bottle slips from my shaky clutch and smashes upon the tiles below.

Six months since the bombs brought an unrelenting hell to Earth. The scorching radiation has cooked my insides, searing through my veins every time I breathe. Agony is everywhere, and others like me barely cling to life in this post-apocalyptic wasteland. Drawing upon my last wisps of strength, a young woman shakily presses a cup against my lips. I can barely taste the smooth, buttery flavor of chardonnay before I succumb to the darkness.