Desolate December wrought.
Waiting for awakening.
Near death graveyard sleeping.
Under starlight & blood moons.#FP
Lost in mists.
Seeking for transition
From Purgatory to Paradise.
Or Purgatory to Hell.
Beyond this blinding fog.#FP
Are you there,
Feeling them in the air.
I know they’re here.
Are filled with fear.
Afraid but still reaching.#FP
Seeking light I cannot give.
I feel the weight of their chains.
I hear their suffering;
And I am helpless #FP
In between the static & scream,
Weak voiced & ill.
Enter in this communion,
That I may give you peace,
& I be not alone. #FP
He played the recording over & over again. “We need help.” It was only a whisper, but clear. It was then he started believing in ghosts. #FP
3:33 a.m., the witching hour.The time when the veil between this life & the next thinned like paper. He lit a candle & set up his tools #FP
He turned on his recorder. “Spirit, I heard your cry for help. What can I do?” He stood in silence thinking himself crazy. #FP
He played back the recording. A whisper came through the recorder, “Find me. Mommy doesn’t know. She’s scared.” #FP
His heart pounded in his chest. The air felt oppressive & full of fear. Again he flipped on his recorder, “who are you? Where are you?” #FP
Through the hiss of white noise in static, the little girl’s voice whispered again through his recorder. “I’m scared. Help me.” #FP
Working tirelessly through the early hours of the morning, he used his recorder, but no more replies came through. #FP
He gathered his things & returned to his car. The windows were fogged against the cold; a squeaking on the windshield broke his thoughts #FP
He watched in horror as an invisible hand wrote in the moisture clouding his windshield, L-E-A-V-E H-E-R-E! #FP
The engine roared to life; tires kicked gravel into the air as he peeled back onto the road, speeding towards his apartment. #FP
The Last Day of Man
The sky fell in a grand rain of fire. Giggling madly, arms out stretched & waiting, he ushered in the Old Gods & man’s extinction. #FP
She watched in horror the fabric of reality fray & rend, tearing itself apart.
“The Old Ones? God! What have you done?”
“Justice? Justice!? You’ll die, too! What now?”
“Leap into the abyss.” #FP
“Can we stop it?”
“Can you turn back time?”
“So this is it, then?”
“What about happy endings?”
“Fairy tales & massage parlors.”#FP
“Don’t be, love. We go together.”
“Thank you…for all the good you gave me.”
“You were all my good, my love.” #FP
Hand in hand, dressed in their finest. Sixty years of marriage. A life of love without regret.Boldly the stood before death.#FP
The earth shook opening terrible rifts.
Through tears he whispered, “I wish I’d forgiven him sooner. Told him I still love him.”#FP
“Are you lighting a cigar?”
“How can you smoke at a time like this?”
“The world’s ending. Name a better time.”#FP
She sat alone in the sand watching the crashing waves. If the world was to end, she’d spend her last moments where life once made sense. #FP
“They promised a rapture. Salvation for the good. Hell for the wicked. All the things I could’ve done. What a waste.” #FP
He fussed with his beard before loading the final ammo box in his underground shelter not knowing, in the end, no place would be spared. #FP
Shots rang out. Fires burned across the city over a chorus of screams. Even facing the end, Man would not put an end to his vulgarity. #FP
“Hey mom?You there? I just called to say I’m sorry. For everything. I love you. I hope you get this message before it’s too late.” #FP
“What are you thinking about?”
“Yeah. I wish I’d gone.”
“I always imagined the end like this. Full of regret.” #FP
“Mom, why is the sky falling?”
“I don’t know, hon. I don’t know.”
“Will we be okay?”
“Shh, my love. Just close your eyes.”
“I love you” #FP
This apocalyptic string of #FP tweets has been incubating in my head for some time. Thanks for letting me share it with you!
Pictures: Pixabay – CCO (Public Domain)