november 24 2567, Dr. Piquales journal.
everyone had become infected with some sort of fatal microbe, and the survivors are few and far between. the highways are empty. the playgrounds are quiet, besides the rhythmic squeaking of the swing, blowing back and forth in the breeze. entire cities reduced to empty columns of glass and pillars of ash from the corpses. I am yelling, searching for others. but the once bustling town is completely silent in its reply. no cars, no planes, all life has been removed. I, for the first time in my life, am completely alone.

they came for the loud first, to reduce the alarm. then the hated. once again, no alarm. all that is left is the shy, the hiding. the bible seemed to mean it literally when it had said that the meek will inherit the earth. but for some reason... it just isn't as happy as i would think it would be, having free rein to do whatever i please. maybe its because I have no one to share it with.

november 25
they came for the meek
they stopped the wind
they killed the animals

it is completely
quiet