A stranger comes knocking during a blackout. (UNFINISHED)
|As James sat, almost completely in darkness, with only the flickering of a candle and the ghostly shadows bouncing eerily on the walls as company, he couldn't help but think of how his ancestors must have felt before the widespread use of electricity. His devices had used up all their precious battery and with nothing to charge them back to glory, he reverted back to the more traditional pen and paper.|
All around him remained silent, but for the cat purring next to him, frustrated with the meager dinner she had been served. Unfortunate yes, unavoidable no, the supermarket shelves had been stripped bare ever since the virus had arrived on these shores.
With the constant blackouts came a slow erosion of his sanity. Was this what living in Nazi Germany or North Korea was like? At least he had his health, for now. It was only only a matter of time before he was struck down by the illness that was plaguing so many.
The media called it the New Black Death, and for those who so far had refused to be vaccinated, masks were mandatory. Citizens were stopped regularly while out and about, with the familiar cry of ‘show me your papers.’ Those who refused simply disappeared. We were doomed to repeat the history that we had yet to learn from.
The knock on the door was intent on interrupting him from his writing, the loud, impatient pounding echoing loudly in his skull. Who could be calling around at this ungodly hour? He knew from experience that it was never good at this time of night, quite the opposite actually. Why should tonight be an exception? As if to echo his sentiments the clock chimed midnight. The witching hour. The time when every chest pain could be a heart attack, every tingle, an impeding stroke, every headache, a tumour. It was the time where if you listened closely you could hear your own death clock ticking.
But all James heard was the door banging once more and as he stood up, a wave of terror crashed over him like any he had ever experienced. He ruled out a panic attack, he knew how they felt, having suffered them on several occasions. It wasn't that, though his heart was pounding. He felt afraid. Terrified in fact.
Yet still he was compelled to answer the door.