Darkwood

I see hatred and fear in their eyes. As if I was responsible for the spreading disease. As if I were the source of all the misery plaguing this land.

Their infected, rotten flesh fills my vision, drowning my smell, my hearing, my sight, in a mass of suffering.

I have nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. The woods have closed us off from the outside world.

We are all doomed.

My eyes opened.

"They're all fucking savages..." I mumbled as I recounted my nightmare. I have been having that same dream for days now, and if I were any more religious I would have said it was a sign from God. That is, if God hasn't already died in these forsaken woods.

However, dreams of the past would never help me survive the present. I shook off all remnants of the dream and stood up. All around me was the smell of mold, yet it was the cleanest place in my house, my office. Around the room were few things; the room was small after all. A desk, some potatoes, and various medical notes and papers were scattered across the room. Months ago, I used to brainstorm about cures to the plague in this room. As such, I know all of these notes by heart. I've long since given up on hope.

Who cares about other people in this land? All for what? Admiration?

I opened my room from my living area. Once decorated by furniture, now the living room was only decorated by bloody, rusted cages. This time they're empty. I glanced at a door in the corner. Sometimes whimpering could still be heard coming from it. Wouldn't want to open that door now. I spent too long trying to lock him in there, if he could even still be called human.

As I was looking at the door, the lights in the room flickered rapidly, then suddenly shut off.

Shit, the generator's empty. Perhaps the broken tractor to the east of here would have some to spare. Surviving in the dark at night is suicide.

Grabbing my axe from the side of my house, I was amazed to find another tree has grown from the small passageway that leads from my house to the rest of the woods.

'The trees are growing faster and faster. Sooner or later I won't be able to cut them down fast enough.'

As I cut through it again, a man appeared in my vision. Bloodied and unconscious, he was dressed in a scarecrow's garb. As I moved closer and closer, I could barely suppress my urge to vomit. He, he was disgusting, absolutely disgusting. Beady eyes, and the only skin that wasn't covered by his clothing were horribly mangled, purple and black, worse than any plague victim I have set my eyes on. yet I could see that he did not prepare much, in fact it seems like he was carrying nothing, and since he was clothed, I knew that he was somewhat sentient.

I searched his pocket. There it was, a large metal key, rusted and flecked with dirt.

My salvation, it had to be. What else could it be? What other use could a key have?

He was carrying a key, he knew the passage out. It had to be.

My daughter, she's waiting for me on the other side. She has to be.

I checked him over like a rapid dog, my disgust in his appearance all but forgotten. But, where would the exit be? He had to know, but he can't tell me if he's unconscious. As I slung him across my shoulder, I thought to myself.

'He won't tell me voluntarily, but, then again...

Voluntary, hehe, anything becomes voluntary after some persuasion...'

Anything to survive. Anything to see my daughter again.