Clouding with a Chance of Brains
His vision went blurry, he was seeing double and having trouble keeping his balance. The front of his shirt was deep red to black and sticking to his chest, his hands over the hole were covered with red blood. He looked at the blood on his and laughed. He sat the rifle to the side, leaning up against the wall.
Fight it, he thought to himself, you can beat this.
He laughed at the absurdity of it all. It was impossible. This had to be some bad dream, some nightmare from the dark recesses of his sub-conscience. He felt so tired, he felt a vice wrap around his head. He leaned against the entryway into his home. He could almost feel the veil of darkness descending over his mind, clouding his memories.
Nothing about this seemed real. Yet, he could not figure out why his hands refused to grasp the key chain in his pocket. Maybe he could just rest right there, he thought, just for a moment. He could take a breather and be as good as new. He did not know why he had stopped there, but it no longer mattered.
He heard the click of the door lock. He barely moved his head, just his eyes. A girl was standing there looking very concerned, she was sad.
“Daddy...” she said.
He only briefly recalled the word from his dying memory. He felt that he could move again. He also felt hungry and this girl looked tasty to him. He started to pull himself up into position to grab the snack when another human came outside, screamed and then pulled the little girl inside.
He could not understand what they were saying now. All he knew was one thing, food. They were food and they were behind this thing. He began pushing and clawing at the object between himself and food. Nothing else existed, it was the only spark of thought left inside of his head.