As night falls, they exit from their hiding places.
The light is unclean to them. Their corrupted minds know not why.
By their smell I know them. Dank and rotten - the smell of the grave.
Preceding their approach, the stench is unmistakable.
I watch as they move in the dark, slow and laborious.
Hundreds gather, then thousands.
A slow motion tidal wave of death.
I dare not move. I make no sounds.
This has been my life behind the shuttered windows. Normal now.
I watch as they move closer. A steady, crawling chaos of flesh.
Scratching & weakly clawing at the wood - they only know that they want.
I watch as one presses close to the door. Our eyes separated by a fraction through a distorted lens.
I see only hollowness there. No spark. Only emptiness.
I close my eyes and await the daylight.
Again.
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