Puer Mortuum Est...
The flooded cityscape reeked of death, decay, depravity. Empty cars, buildings, and bodies floated in the suburban wasteland.
Defiled, barren, achromatic...murdered of the sacred.
Wading waist deep through the filth, he (it?) moved the makeshift barge through the foul detritus floating at the surface. On it, he hauled the mass of bloated, barely identifiable flesh.
Cutting the fingerprints off of his latest victim he announced out loud to himself, "They deserved it ... if there were a God, he has judged them as he has judged me..profane, vile, polluted."
I had gotten used to the smell and the terror before me. But...it was his existence, his being...and the screeching, slithery rot of his voice that did it.
Despair rose within my heart along with the wave of nausea that clenched at my stomach and filled my mouth...causing me to surrender my sanctuary.
Accompanied with a slimy, discordant tone, he, and somehow the whole abhorrent spectacle before my eyes...looked straight at me...
I wasn't scared at all.