Doomsday Diary

Nature’s bliss. The vivid green vines slithered around the dilapidated structures of buildings. Fragmented stone. Inconsequential rubble. Resplendent trees extending gracefully for the sky. The sky. An enthralling canvas, rich blue it was painted. Abstract shaped clouds suspended amongst it. Dew droplets and blossoming flowers scented the air. The appeasing wind stroking her hairs. Alone she walked through nature’s bliss. Not to stray too far from the rebirthing society of humans. Although, their presence extraordinarily unfamiliar. Too unfamiliar after the lonely atmosphere she’d been compelled to live in.

Sandi. Her name had been spoken to her prior to now by another person. A request for her identification. The thought of her name rolling off the humane skin of pink shaded lips that weren’t her own once again… enraptured her thoughts. It was a pleasant distraction from the replaying memories forever imprinted in her mind.

The loss. The pain. The war… the battle of survival against The Faceless. The Faceless. Fuck. Sandi felt an overwhelming sensation. Scorching vomit rising to the back of her sore throat. The picture of watching blades and bullets killing The Faceless, infecting her thoughts. For years she had fought. Years she lost count of. Years of puberty. Years of womanhood. Years of personal growth. Years of physical shrivel, deprived of healthy eating options.

The Faceless. Once human. Once carved with smiles and glimmers in their eyes. Their figures once seamless and clothed. Their voices once more than raspy hisses. Their hearts once whole, beating, supporting their body. Blessing them with life. She was sure there remained more of them around the world. But she was not perturbed for them presently. She was imprisoned in the past. Watching their glowering eyes stare her down in the dark. Stars fluctuating in intensity above her. Their prolonged, hoary, oddly proportioned bodies clawing at her. The bang of a gun or the squelch of a knife forcefully, penetrating rotted flesh. The limp, thump of a body. Dead she’d made them. During Sandi’s timeless aesthetic, consisting of striving to defeat The Faceless, death had leered down at her…

yet, here she was.

Sandi’s warm fingers, soiled nails, stiffened skin, touched the sentimental, yet artificial heart-shaped locket swinging around her neck. Her real heartbeat, however, rattled viciously around her ribcage. Bruising her bones. Her muscle tissue weakening. Her heart outline carved on the skin of her chest from the tortuous force it beat at. But the one swaying around her neck… juxtaposed her internal one with jubilation. The moment it was found. Hidden amongst the rich soil. Leaves fallen from trees, blanketing the earth, partially covering the necklace. Its silver glare, now complementing the silver droplets that melted down her cheeks.

It was found when she was free of loneliness. When she’d been discovered by other humans. When she’d been cradled by a stranger as she reflected on agonizing memories, uncontainable rivers streaming down her battered face. Blending with blood and dirt along the scars lined in her cheeks. Heavy, mournful tears. Like the glistening water of the waterfall where she had disposed of her family’s bodies. Carrying their empty amours away, the disease already had annihilated their internal organs. Wordlessly, she’d watched them leave her. But not silently. The fierce crashing of that waterfall, a tumultuous sound, as all those clear beads of liquid tumbled beyond her eyes could see. The little shape of her younger brother disappearing amongst it. Down plummeted her destroyed heart. Ruptured with grief.

Greif. There weren’t enough words descriptive enough for the emotion. No arrangement of sentences. But she tried in her mind. Remembering that night. When the disease spread to her family. Greif was permanent. Never left. It was subtle but was persistent. Attempting to comprehend something beyond comprehension. Missing someone that no longer exists. A chronic disease. The disease began with the acid of information. The information of the loss. It burnt through your brain and your body reacted. The sudden disintegrating of your heart. All the shards descending. It never left its place. Never stopped beating. But it felt like the shards of your heart, dissevered through every internal organ till you were nothing but an empty mortal. The constriction of your throat. Vomit began to asphyxiate you. The contortion of your face. Seizing downwards. The tears dispossessing you of vision. Only blurs and shapes surrounded you.

That scream. Only some can discern the symbolisation of the sound waves and tunes. An anguishing sound. Expressing all the internal, mental and physical pain that acid causes. Your limbs fail to prosper. When you attempt to move, the world orbits under you. You fall. Slamming into the void around you. Hyperventilation. Panic about your lack of ability on knowing how to breathe again. Or how to move. How to live. This numb sensation. Disassociation of reality, but too aware of it simultaneously. A burning tingle on the surface of your skin as you descend to the ground. The acid annihilating every inch of your body. The will to die too. The desperation for their presence. The denial that, that human being so vivid in your mind, traces of their touch left on your fingertips… you would never see again. Never look into the glint of their eyes. Never smell their familiar aroma. Never listen to their words, cries or euphoric laughter. Never. At no time in the future. Not ever. It was too painful. A continuous abuse. Even these words didn’t seem enough. Every person would experience it. If you didn’t, then you were the reason for the experience.

Sandi stopped her thoughts. Hands travelled to her hair, some fingers no longer attached, others not whole as they grazed through her blonde hair. Tugging at her knots. Face etched with strain from past trauma. Uneven from injuries. Up to the sky, Sandi looked. Sun caressing her features as she closed her eyes allowing the golden hue to downpour her with kindliness.

The environment around her was entrancing. The wide shot of her and the scenery. Her small figure silhouetted. The red-bricked building decorated by earth with proliferated branches. The uneven, broken pavements as uncontrolled roots blossomed to the surface. Rays of sunbeam lighting the picture-perfect illustration. The artwork individuals would stop and appreciate in modern-day society. Analyse the brush strokes and the viridescent colours. Then commend it for undeniable beauty.

Sandi, the focus of this painting hiding the horrors. A veil of deception laminated this scenery. The building had the customers and owners, dead and faceless in the back. The shapes scattered along the ground, not only rock, but dismembered portions of what was once a human. Her presence not reflecting the inner turmoil Sandi was destined to forever battle with.

Despite the physical pain she’d suffered. Despite the sacrifices. Sandi had concluded that the worst disease is the brain. The fantasies and expectations one set for themselves. The manipulative, intoxicating desire for the world to return to what it once was. All those memories replaying in your mind like a film All those intrusive thoughts affecting your choices. And it was free. No drugs, no alcohol required for an effect. And it was there for as long as you were alive. That was the worst condition. Your fucking brain.

Down she moved her blue gaze. Perceiving the pirouetting smoke from the fire ahead. The grey clouds twisting around another, eventually dispersing to nothing.

Back she went. Heavy steps, burdened with too many incomprehensible emotions. Arms slightly swaying. Hair pulled back by the wind, exposing her bare face. Heart locket enlightening her, symbolising a return to civilisation. Was it true? For so long she had been deprived of normality, her mind struggled to recognise the return. But it must be. For she did not carry her weapons. For she was not paranoid about the sound around the corner. The birds sang above her. The grass blades danced elegantly around her feet. The clattering of human movement ahead. Words projected from conversing voices reached her ears.

“Sandi,’’ a call for attention. Every letter pronounced in her name, every melody perceived of the voice… hurled reality at her.

It was over.