• I'm standing in a sea of blood. Some of it is my own, but most of it belongs to the millions that have been killed in this war. Everything is grey but the blood. My hands, grey, the buildings in front of me, grey, the sun, grey. Everything is monotone. It is difficult to see. Only the red of blood stands out. That and the terrified blue eyes of my wife standing next to me. I wonder if my eyes shine like that as well.
    Everything I see is a shade of black, grey, or white. Nothing has its own color. What is happening? Has the war really destroyed this much? Rubble is piled up above the blood. I nearly threw up when I first saw the sea of red.
    My feet are soaking. I have to reach dry ground, if at all possible before the night. Too much happens at night. I have to save myself. My wife.
    Her hair was once blonde, her skin tanned well. She was covering as much of her body as possible, so as not to be tainted by this diseased blood. My mind is slipping. So is my body. I may not make it to sunrise tomorrow if we don't remove ourselves from this disease.
    We must not be Tainted.


    The night used to bring romance and love for us. We used to walk along the shoreline holding hands and using the moonlight to guide our feet. We used to be happy together. We would come home late at night when the rest of the town was asleep. We drifted together in a wonderful land of solitude and love.
    Our dreams would unite as one. My wife and I took our time together. We didn't want to miss a single moment. Being alone with her made my heart swell. I would give anything just to be with her for even a day, and I was lucky enough that I didn't have to. Neither of us cared anything about the rest of the world, as long as we had each other.
    Then the war came.
    People from another day appeared, taking others to places where they would be slaughtered. No one was spared. Women, Men, children, no one. In the space of three weeks, blood flowed freely through the streets. Buildings collapsed, and people died. Their screams could be heard day and night.
    We were lucky. The Others never knocked on our door. We stayed in hiding for as long as we could until thirst and hunger locked themselves inside of us. That was the first time I saw the sea. My stomach churned, but there was nothing for me to regurgitate. I fell to my knees, shuddering.
    "What have they done?" I asked no one and anyone that would listen. "What have they done?"
    One of the Others was on the street. It was knee-deep in blood. A weapon was in its hand. I didn't recognize it, but it looked to be a projectile. The Other pointed its weapon at me. I stood and closed the door as quickly as I could. The slam of the door was soon followed by the crunch of splintering wood. I removed my hand from the crushed slab of wood to find thick splinters peppering my flesh.
    I cursed under my breath and ran towards the basement. The door was struck again. My wife followed me down. She locked the door behind her. The basement floor was covered in blood. The red sea was leaking inside our house. At its current rate, the basement would be filled within a day. My wife's terrified blue eyes pierced through the darkness of the basement.
    A knock was heard on the door. Once, twice, three times. We sat as still as we could in the pool of blood. There was a harder bang on the door. I stood up, ready for action. The lock on the door broke, and a figure appeared. I lunged without thinking. My fist made a connection with its mask-covered face. The Other went down and stayed down. I picked up its weapon and aimed at the mask.


    The doctors say I'm fine. My wife has a mild case of pneumonia, nothing some medicine and rest won't cure. But we have no time to rest. The Others. They will find us if we stay in one place too long. And if they don't, then the Tainted will. I would prefer the Others, as any sane man would.
    The monotone has intensified. Absolutely no color is visible save for the greys of everything and the red of blood. Even the blue of my wife's eyes has faded into a dull color. She is getting worse. Yesterday, she coughed up blood. The doctors are saying that it will get worse before it gets better. I hope that they are right.
    Silvia. . . Don't you dare die on me.