The Final Storm

The rain fell on the concrete like drips of black oil, thick and heavy. It coated everything in a dark shiny sheen, as if the world had been dropped in a tank of toxic waste. I don't know if it could even be called rain anymore. The stench of it was revolting and I could no longer remember the rain the way that it was before. Matter of fact I couldn't remember much at all how our world was before the sky turned black. I couldn't even remember who I was or who I had been. What I did know was how to survive and my instincts were telling me I couldn't stay out here on the streets much longer. The rain brought with it the Wrens and the rest of the monsters that we lived with now. The few of us that survived, have spent half a year in hiding, or fighting for our lives. There are pockets of humans left, at least that's what I hear. When you run into travelers, there is no way to know if the information we share is real or we are all just trying to make sense of this disaster, hopeful for some sort of a future. During the first days, we all thought the storm would go away. We hid, we found others, and we sheltered in place together. Until the food ran out, and our supplies got low, and people started killing each other before the Wrens even got to them. We all turned into our own monsters just to survive and it didn't take as long as you’d think. It wasn't just the streets that were unsafe then, our bunkers and hideouts were covered in blood as well.

We learned right away that the storms were not organic. I always thought the world would end due to climate change or some kind of natural disaster, instead something evil was released and it swallowed the world whole. When the first storm hit, the people that couldn't find shelter emerged from the clouds of black days later as something much different than us. I have spent this entire time pretending, and convincing myself that I was just another human that somehow hid from the storm and survived. As much as I want to believe that, I know that it’s not the truth. I shudder thinking back to the day of the storm, because I cannot remember anything before that day. Just him. He returns in my sleep almost every night, the same scene playing over and over. I can remember stepping out from the dense black void of the storm and into the daylight. It felt like I was shedding my skin, the air changed and every sensation was now different. I turned to look behind me into the storm, for some reason questioning if I should go back in and I see him. He is a Wren and he is absolutely terrifying. I can see the wind and rain swirling around him like it knows he is there, avoiding touching him as if somehow it is afraid of him. He is not running at me, not coming to kill me. Just standing there in the black as I stare into the abyss, trying to process what I am seeing. My mind is screaming at me to run away, and never stop running, but my body feels like it is pulling me back into the storm, towards this monster. If anyone knew I walked out of the storm I would be dead or imprisoned, by humans left on this world and I would have no answers for them on why I was able to walk out, and why I can’t remember anything from before the storm. And they would certainly kill me for that.

I shake off the feeling of dread that the memory leaves me with and I keep walking, creeping around the alleyways and shadows, getting closer and closer to my current hideout. No one really knows what happened in the storms but everyone else that was trapped in it either died where they stood or emerged as monsters that the news quickly termed Wrens. I remember hiding in a bunker that first week watching a live news report, and behind the reporter you could see a black figure emerging from a storm cloud. Before you can even blink, the Wren tore the reporter to shreds and the world got a real glimpse at the monsters we now lived with, what we had to survive against. Where they walk, the ground turns grey and ashy. They leave this toxic black chemical trail, just like the rain from the never ending storm clouds. Their long beak-like faces, dark black eyes and inherent emptiness makes you wish you could have your normal nightmares back. The scariest part is that our neighbors didn't just turn into mindless bird-like monsters that we could fight against, or hunt. Instead, it is as if they somehow evolved into something more, something smarter, something faster, and something predatory. No one knew how or why it happened, and there probably wasn't anyone left on earth that could figure it out. The news channels didn't continue long after the incident with the reporter, but the whole world was in a frenzy. Was this an infection, a virus, aliens, a monster we never knew existed but was always here? It was a fleeting frenzy and one that didn't bring answers because it didn't take long for the internet to go down and our world to go dark. Then we were alone with the monsters.

I let my mind drift while walking back home. It was easy to lose track of the days and moments but I really needed to get back. Even with my disguise on, I knew I couldn't pass as a Wren if one of them truly saw me. I snuck into the alleyway, and found the dumpster covering the door to my makeshift apartment. Home at last. I almost made it to my apartment when I heard a creak in the stairs. Someone was behind me. Had He found me? I braced myself and grabbed the heart shaped locket around my neck, waiting for what was next.