A worldwide cataclysm leads to a family tragedy.*
Both Mom and Dad are dead, as is my darling sister, also.
I have barely got enough supplies to last me through the fall, so
once again I’ll have to forage to obtain sufficient rations
if I want to keep my body fit to fend off the assassins.
We had weathered the pandemic; stayed robust throughout flu season.
Then – devoid of prior warning, without rhyme or any reason –
half the planet’s population, fury raging as a flood must,
lost control of their emotions and became consumed with bloodlust.
In a span of time so brief it can’t be figured out precisely,
those afflicted started killing; any weapon would suffice. We
never knew who friend or foe was, with approaches masked in silence.
Any contact with a stranger could abruptly end in violence.
Such a shocking and abrupt change spreading quickly, like a wildfire.
Bodies strewn across the landscape, corpses gathered up and piled higher.
Many bright minds now corrupted, so there was no guarantee a
battle plan would be forthcoming; slim chance for a panacea.
Never venturing beyond what used to be our safe community,
we’d persevered by luck, mixed with a smidge of ingenuity.
Then a day came when I ventured out – not thinking something dire would
happen at my family’s residence while I collected firewood.
When I left them, both my parents and my sister were aware
to all remain on high alert, since they could not know when or where
some savage lunatic might suddenly appear, intent on slaughter.
I returned to find my parents dead – both bludgeoned by their daughter.
As I stepped inside the house and came across this bleak tableau,
my dear sister, now a killer, briefly looked at me as though
she understood her vile transgression. Then, not pausing for a breath,
she came at me with the clear intent of beating me to death.
Barely comprehending how this dreadful chaos was ensuing,
I attempted a defense while crying out, “What are you doing?”
All her blows were fierce and rained down in an unrelenting torrent.
Now faced with a Hobson’s choice, my only option was abhorrent.
It’s too painful to reflect upon the step I had to take…
From that moment on – my wounded heart has never ceased to ache.
Even if one day a cure is found, I won’t have it applied.
There’s no need to go on living; I’m already dead inside.
*This is fiction! An entry for a contest where the subject was “Horror” and not really any avenue to make it funny.