File six


    “I was in my bedroom.” – Jackal, reciting the story before the Reaper


    Under the bed lays a child, no older than thirteen, trembling on the verge of tears, but terrified of the idea he may alert the maggot-ridden, demon-sent horde that had gotten the rest of his family.


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    His parents.


    His sister.


    His brother.


    The world.


    All gone.


    Those lifeless eyes stare into his soul as the bed is lifted, effortlessly, off him.


    The urge to scream is suppressed by his new open-front airpipe design.


    Tears run a river down his rotting flesh.


    “Why?” he manages to gurgle, barely, through the taste of his own rotten flesh.


    The bed, still tipping, crushes his unfortunate sister.


    The sound of bones crushing can be heard throughout the entire desecrated and destroyed church, having been abandoned by the divine.