Prologue

*First POV*

19 December 2019, Thursday

4:43 p.m.

I never thought that music could be so powerful—so omnipotent that a single melody could wipe out at least half of the world's population or even larger; And that a sweet tune could bring out a dark symphony which turned tranquility into dust.

Yes, that's right. I'm like walking in a ghost town right now with only about 160 people remaining from the half-a-millennium count in our city. Drained and worn out with gray Gucci shirt and black ripped jeans unchanged for days, I have to walk another mile before the day falls.

I'm only 18 and I lost my mother in what I believe to be an apocalypse. But it wasn't just an ordinary "end-of-the-world" experience such as those in typical movies where hiding is enough to survive. Here, I need to fight for my life and run like I am always being chased in order to stay breathing in the other day. 

I meet new faces everyday, some are exhausted and tired while others—preparing to lie on their deathbeds. It's so sad to think about how the world changed so quickly, but I ain't got time to be concerned, the same thing with talking with the people I encounter because it won't make some help in terms of survival.

I became nocturnal since this catastrophe came, resting during the day and battling for survival through the night because they are only active when the sun is out of sight. Who are they? It's something you wouldn't like to know but for the sake of curiosity, they are the ones who hunt souls every night giving this planet a nightmare no one can escape alive.

They believe that a human soul tastes a lot better if it went through difficulties, the very reason why the street I'm on right now is full of splattered blood. Lifeless bodies, brutally murdered, are scattered everywhere and it's not so uncommon to me for I have been experiencing this drought since last month.

And when you look up in the sky, you can see how the sun feels so guilty about falling down for it knew it will only see new motionless corpses by the time it rises up again the next day; And how it is burden with conscience for being unable to help eliminate the dark spirits during the night. But what the sun doesn't know is that seeing it rise again gives us our last bits of hope.

It's so hard to believe that what used to be a peaceful place in the universe turned out to be an abode for the evil ones. The world has really come to its end, but what's even worse is that: I'm the one to blame.

However, no one knows what I've done. Neither do I.