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Tick...Tock. Whispers the clock, carefully mounted on the dusty walls of my humble abode. The chair in-which I sit seems dormant, the usual softness of an armchair, withered away in time, the leather flesh of this once comfortable throne: devoured by age. I caress the prune like elderly arms of my arm chair, taking in a deep breath, followed by a dusty sigh which sifted the dust particles before me, which tickled the tip of my nose in their random path in the atmosphere. I run my right hand through my hair, which felt dirty to the touch, dotted occasionally with ridged rubble that had collapsed from the roof above me.

The attention of my hand ran to my face, which felt rough like sandpaper, and oily from the sweat that had dripped from my brow before, I hadn't shaved in days. My bloodshot eyes drifted to the rotting table before me, housing a used packet of cigarettes and a half empty bottle of whiskey. My dry hand stretched towards the table, the skin on each of my digits felt as though it was slowly being stretched backwards, retreating into my palm. The glass was ice cold, and upon pressing it to my lips my dried lips cracked, which burned as the cold alcoholic beverage dripped down my throat, slightly re-hydrating my dry body as my arms shivered from the embrace of the years old whiskey.

I rubbed my eyes, dry tears shattering before the tyranny of my palm, collapsing into my lap as I pulled a pocket-radio from my jacket. I wiped the device on my forearm, cranking up the power on the radio, and tuning it into the channel of my local news feed. Cracking, the radio signal was flooded. I had come to terms with my nearing fate, but this isolation I felt reminded me of my loss, and the terrible fate I was about to endure. But deep inside I knew that it wouldn't hurt, and that maybe, beyond the great light, I would be free into another world, a world of hopes, dreams and eternal rest. I glared at the wall in front of my, the ingested whiskey allowing me to produce tears, as the sight of my families last photograph lay before me, their innocent, but now lost eyes staring back at me, smiling. My wife, my beautiful daughter, and now I was going to join them.

I reached for the pillow casing which sat sandwiched between my back and the sofa behind me, my hand greeted by the perfect, metallic handle of my handgun, which rested perfectly in my palm...now beautifully in my mouth. The barrel tasted bitter, my arm began to shake rapidly, as I pushed the barrel to the roof of my mouth...It was no good. I threw the gun to the floor beneath me, the carpet and dust suppressing the sound of the metal structure slamming into the hollow ground.

I collapsed into my hands, tears rolling through the gaps on my fingers, dripping into my lap, as I cursed loudly, standing quickly as the chair in which I was previously sat collapsed behind me, the table falling to the ground, one of its legs splintering on the ground. I hated them, I hated what they had done, I hate what was about to be done. Society had warped into a contained vessel within an ocean of corruption, its captain: them. Those who wish to manipulate us- it is too late for me to complain, for me: it was over. But for them? I and the rest of my friends, those who I have grown up with for my entire life, the city that had raised me, and made me who I am, had to be destroyed, for "the sake of humanity and all of its interests.", we over indulged ourselves in the luxuries of the modern world, and as a consequence? Well, I was about to find out.

I stumble my semi-drunk body towards my basement door, throwing it open and dragging my heavy-feeling legs down the rickety stairs, which creaking below my feet with every step I took. My basement was always so cold, I couldn't keep them here in the warm though, could I? They needed to stay cold, and preserved for...For the great light. My eye lids peel open, revealing my bloodshot eyes, which scanned the darkened room. Upon the side of the nearby wall sat a small coat-hook, housing a flashlight which I quickly swiped, turning it on as I took my right foot from the wooden steps to the cold concrete of my basement floor. The step echoes swiftly around me, the echo manipulating as the sound bounces of of each wall.

I wipe the tears from my face, my vision blurring, distorting my vision as I attempt to make my way to the basement window, purposely collapsing to the floor, pointing my light forwards towards the opposing wall. There they lay, my solemn frown quickly dispersing into a smile formation, a sign of comfort as I glared towards their cold faces. They seemed so happy, at least: happier than me, perhaps they wanted this? Or was my mind simply playing tricks on me, were they scared? It doesn't matter now, they are in a better place, and I was about to join them. I stroked my wives face, her skin only slightly colder than my mine, she seemed to alive to me, yet I could feel the absence of her soul within her. I had no time to mourn.

Every step that I took echoed in my ears, my ear drums thudding inside of my head as my heart beat began to pound with them, every sin in my lifetime passing by me, dispersing like petals blowing in the wind behind my very being. I opened my eyes wide, pushing open my front door, opening my arms and embracing the world for the last time, allowing the angel of death to grasp my soul. The great flash. Others had accumulated outside, some crying, cowering in fear, but some: like myself, embracing death in open arms. Before a breath or another cry for help could be heard, our bodies dispersed into vapor, our shadows, and the essence of our past forever carved into the cold stone slabs around me us. Here I remain, in a purgatory of eternal capture, silence and isolation. The great flash claimed more than our lives. It claimed our souls...

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