Impatience

I don't even feel it anymore. The crunch of broken glass beneath my feet, the shallow pulse leaving the vein. Before the hunger there was nothing, now there is still nothing...only more of it.

Today (?) I stand among my brethren...waiting at the Wicklin Monument for my chance to wake up from this nightmare. Freedom is so close, my anticipation as sharp as the needle jammed into my neck. I feel it rushing into my brain but stopping, suddenly. Locked up in my rotted grey matter, the revivification serum is useless, pointless.

He's angry, but I didn't do anything to him. Suddenly I'm on the ground; a smoking hole in my temple, as dry as the dead leaves gathered at the foot of the monument. Extinguished like so much rubbish. But I can still smell him...I can still smell him...

Have you seen the fog?

Prying loose a small board, I peer outside a darkened windowless frame into the godforsaken street...

Out of the thickening swirls of falling ash and mist a shambling figure shuffles forward... I recognize its body, obscured as it is by the elysian smog...Mandibles...

The Eldritch memory of an indescribable terror grips me for a moment and between one second and its isochronal death I can remember the foul taste of writhing flesh. I wretch quietly, forcing the bile back into my grinding stomach.

I shudder and replace the barricade over the hole, closing off my inarticulate vision...but the smell of death and the horrid whisper of our approaching doom seeps through the cracks....

I know he's out there. For the love of my abandoned God and everything that was once holy but has now fallen into decay and ruin, I will have my cleansing vengeance...but not now...
perhaps not today...soon though...very soon.

I close my eyes. All in Good Time...