The End Foreseen

chapter one

I feel the crunch of gravel beneath my feet as I approach a long abandoned house. The shattered windows on either side of the front door glare like empty eyes. The whole street is eerily quiet for the time of day, making me even more on edge than I already am.

Slowly, I nudge the door open, flinching as the hinges groan in protest. Flakes of faded paint crumble off with the motion, spiraling to the ground like dead leaves. I tighten my grip on the gun, mentally preparing myself for what could be inside.

I gingerly take my first step in, gun raised, sweeping my gaze across the living room for any possible danger. It's a disaster here—furniture overturned, shards of shattered glass glinting in the dim light, and knick-knacks scattered across the floor like forgotten memories.

After assuring myself there wasn't any threat, I edge toward the hallway. That's when I notice it, faint at first, but very distinct. A keening wail cuts through the silence, distant but unmistakable, making me want to cringe. I've never heard anything like it before, it's definitely not human.

I take a deep breath and begin to carefully open the first door in the hallway. Again, nothing but chaos greets me: piles of clothing, broken toys, and broken pieces from a past life. Pink curtains, now faded and torn, hang limply over the window, and faded unicorn stickers adorn the walls. It was a little girl’s room, once. My chest tightens at the thought of what might have happened to her. I hope to the gods, whatever ones are left, that what remained was long gone.

My instincts scream at me to leave—to turn around and forget this place. But I can't. So I move on to the next room, thankfully just a bathroom, sterile and unremarkable compared to the rest of the house. Still, the wailing grows louder, crawling into my ears and making my head throb, as I proceed to the third door.

I notice the faint smell of decay coming from behind the door as I approach. Upon opening it the smell hits me like a wall, so much worse than I expected. It’s rancid, suffocating, and so thick I feel it coat the back of my throat. I gag, pressing my sleeve against my nose, but it’s no use. Swallowing the rising bile, I take a quick look around the room.

It's a tomb, a woman’s half-rotted body lies sprawled beneath the debris, maggots writhing in the decayed flesh. Bullet holes pepper her torso, and a photo, half-destroyed, is clutched in her skeletal hand. I can’t take it anymore.

My stomach rebels, and I stumble back into the hallway, retching violently, and clumsily closing the door in the process. The taste of bile burns my throat, but I force myself to calm down, quickly recovering from the sickness. I steel my nerves for the final room.

The door is waiting for me, daunting and ominous. Every fiber of my being screams at me to leave it shut. But my body betrays me, moving forward against my will.

I begin to open the door. The wailing is still rising in pitch, piercing my ears and making my head feel as if it's going to explode, when the hinges squeak unexpectedly. Silence...

'f**k!', I thought, preparing myself for whatever it is and push the door open violently, raising my gun and-

Darkness.

A sharp pain shoots through my skull, dragging me into consciousness. I bolt upright, clutching my head as a scream escapes my lips. My heart pounds like a war drum, and sweat drenches my trembling body. .

"Fuuuuuuuck!" I groan, rocking back and forth, as I cradle my head. Once I collect myself enough, I claw at the tangled covers and stagger out of bed. My legs feel like jelly as I stumble into the bathroom, muttering curses. The searing pain pulsing relentlessly in my skull makes it hard to function.

"f*****g dreams… f*****g sleep… f*****g head…”I grumble, throwing open the medicine cabinet. ”f*****g f**k f**k fuck... Where the hell is it?" I mutter through the pain realizing the bottle is missing. ‘Of course, everytime my head is ready to split down the middle.’

My frustration boils over and I ask myself,"Where- The f**k- IS- THE GOD DAMN TYLENOL!", each word louder than the last. I proceed to storm out of the bathroom and straight to my cousin's room and shove the door open, causing it to bounce off the wall. It slaps against my hand that I raise at the last minute to stop it from slamming in my face.

"Where the f**k is my f*****g Tylenol Ana?!" I ask heatedly. She was unresponsive under the covers and probably still dead asleep. Just when I begin to step into the room to dump her ass on the floor, she starts stirring under the blankets, and groans, “Wha’d’ya want?”

“My Tylenol,” I snap, stepping closer.

"Uuuuuuh...oh...”, she says groggily, processing what I had said. ”Oh yeah!", suddenly awake she props herself up on one elbow, reaches for her night stand and tosses the bottle toward me, "It's right here. I forgot to put it back."

I catch it, shaking out several of the little bastards and swallow them dry.

“No s**t,” I mutter, already feeling my anger ebb as the promise of relief distracts me. Ana watches me with concern. “Did you have another one of those dreams?”

"Yea,” I admit, rubbing my temples,” this one was extra creepy…” each word beat against my skull as I continued, “They say dreams are your subconscious reflecting your reality. If that’s true, I’m screwed.”

Without waiting for her response, I retreat back to the dark of my room, clutching the bottle like a lifeline. Crawling back into bed, I cocoon myself in the blankets, hoping the pills kick in soon and decide not to come out until I feel better. I listen as Ana moves around the house, getting up for the day. Letting my mind wander off and, before long, drift off into a blessedly dreamless sleep