Mournful Bones

Running in, out and in-between buildings. I can nearly grasp the fear floating in the air. My companions disappear into a small home and usher me in. Should I go? I don't want to go in. They'll find us here. Before stepping over the threshold I glance around feeling eyes watching me. Faced with empty buildings and collapsing skyscrapers, an ocean with a single decrepit ship half swallowed by the water half rusted away. Crawling under the bed I have never felt more alone, my hands over my ears. Somewhere I know it's a dream and that I'll wake up eventually, but I want to wake up now.

No matter how hard I fold myself I cannot get under the bed fully. One set of loud footsteps are outside. I can't breathe. The door creaks open. Clanking, jingling skeletal steps shuffle over the same threshold I just crossed. Rotting flesh and bones stumble down the hall. My feet move without my permission to follow.

The shuffling sounds lead me to light pouring from the bathroom. The figure stands staring at the mirror. A dripping sound overwhelms my senses and as I seek the noise I find a shard of glass clutched in my hand. A trail of dripping blood behind me falling from my palm. The figure now sees me. Sightless sad eyes. I am looking in the mirror. These shuffling mournful bones are my own.