I had never thought that a day's hardship would make me feel that this life had nothing more to offer, even less, make me come to the conclusion that our innate faith had deserted us.

How is it that the very thing that gave us purpose and drive somehow ceased to exist?

A couple of hours have passed and many things have been seen. Today, in the forenoon to be more precise, me and my neighbor Ernest went searching for his missing son, Damien. On the hunt, we discovered that our region had been depopulated, food supplies snatched, and the combustible resources were staggering between being depleted and being detonated by an unprecedented event.

While we were returning home, we managed to capture one of those lapses in which a radio transmission loop restarted. A doomsayer on the radio advised us to pray for our lives to be saved and delivered from imminent suffering.

I was helping Ernest, who was seriously ill and restless, walk back home. On the way back, his behavior was strange. Although it was expected due to his fall, it seemed that he had lost part of his memory. I blamed it on the fact that, in an attempt to avoid further trauma, his brain blocked the memory of his son's soulless body inside that closet. 

Seconds before opening his house's front door, he looked at me and uselessly tried to talk. As I was telling him to steady his breath, his eyes began to move rapidly in a lateral direction, without any coordination. To me, it seemed like he was fighting something; while trying to stay awake and away from giving up his life.

He was dying, there was no doubt about it, and I feared he was waiting to see his wife so he could say a proper goodbye. Luckily for us, Susanne was vigilant for us to arrive, apparently she had been checking out the windows from time to time, expecting us to bring Damien back.

We rushed in, and even if we brought sad news, the priority was to lay Ernest down for him to be comfortable and be able to rest. In an unexpected twist, he resisted being taken to bed. He stood up vigorously again and again. It took all three of us (my wife, Susanne, and I) to put him to rest for good in one of the bedrooms. 

My wife went back to the room with the kids, as they had been having nightmares for the past few days and she didn't want to leave them unprotected. As Ana walked away, she stared at me as if urging me to tell Susanne the bad news.

Susanne offered me a cup of coffee, to which I replied, "Yes please, it is convenient."

As she was whisking the sugar, she looked away and said, "I know you brought sad news, which I refuse to hear. In my heart, he is a brave young man and will remain so, alive in my mind. Now, have your well-deserved coffee, that's what little I can offer you as a thank you."

I couldn't stand my sadness and the guilt I felt...

Even less forget my last memory of Damien.

5:40 PM— I began to tell her what we saw in our neighbors' houses, patiently; avoiding those recounts that could allude to Damien's misfortune. I told her about the bodies of the elderly that we found, the pictures, the young ones that disappeared without a trace, the sticky substance, and the electrical magnetism event.

She interrupted me saying, "Yes, I don't even want to think about it."

We had an uncomfortable moment, abundant in silence. I knew it was useless to worry about tomorrow, but I asked anyway, "Should we just let ourselves give way or should we connect to our inner selves to find peace with our fate?"

She shushed me after I accepted my guilt and apologized to her, deeply saddened. She then shook her head, looked at the door for the room in which her husband rested, and asked me in a low voice, "Did Ernest tell you about Stan?"

"Stan? What about him?" I questioned, intrigued.

She told me that the day Stan knocked on their door, to tell them about the robbery at his house, he'd asked about Damien. She recalled his questions as: "Where's Damien?," "Is he ok?," and "Can I see him?"

She believed that it was him who targeted their house. This, after noting Stan's demeanor the day of the bizarre attack.

She told me, "We heard a knock again, in a similar pattern to Stan's. When Ernest opened the door, it was him, but he was gone; disoriented... he had no emotion. Then, by force, he tried to hold the door open." Her voice trembled when she added, horrified, "He had a mission, I could feel it."

After a short pause, she continued recalling the events, "Ernest was calm; confused but awake and alert. As soon as he tried to close the door, the air began to feel heavy, and although it was dark, it became darker. I felt as if a pitch-black shadow was approaching. It was huge, but at the same time, it wasn't like something could be seen. At least not something tangible... In the struggle, Stan pulled Ernest to the backyard, I yelled at Damien to bring the gun and we both went out to help him. Once outside, something grabbed Stan by the leg, but I can assure that, that thing, was trying to reach for Damien. While in the air, Stan started screaming. Ernest took the gun from Damien's hands and shot at the darkest spot. At that point, Damien and I started knocking on your door... and I suppose you know the rest."

She hadn't finished her retelling when my mind was already stuck thinking about Stan's demeanor...

I can't say I was friends with him; we weren't that close. We talked in the nightly meetings with the neighbors. He was single and did not have children. He lived an easy life; good job, decent salary, and no obligations other than that. At meetings, when the children were with the adults, Stan always seemed upset. He would even leave if the children stayed around for too long. Due to this fact, I found it strange that he had shown concern for Damien.

I was debating in my mind whether I should tell her the thoughts written on the wall close to Damien's body, or just tell her that it's normal to be paranoid in these types of situations. Decided on telling her about her son's last written words, Ana sat with us, interrupting the conversation. She looked tired and anguished. Susanne told us that she would check on Ernest to give us some privacy.

Ana started talking, "I found myself avoiding eye contact with the children; evading the possibility of them reading in my eyes the hopelessness and impotency I feel after hearing that dreadful transmission."

She was clearly resigned and dissociated from any spiritual beliefs as she continued, frantically, "There's no way back now. There's nothing; nothing that can reverse our existence once our lives are lost."

As a caring gesture, I went to kiss her, remaining by her side and caressing her. She hugged me, deeply saddened, and crying asked me to promise her that I would do my hardest to protect the children until the end —no matter what. After this, I wanted a moment with my kids but waited for Susanne to come back to not leave Ana alone.

Later, as I was walking toward the kids, I saw Ernest walking out of the room where they were sleeping. I was impressed, so I called out to him.

He turned, slowly, and stared at me while trying to speak once more. I was worried for him, so I begged him not to strive, but he insisted and motioned for me to get closer. I approached him. He put his hand over my shoulder —looking at our surroundings— pulled me closer, and whispered to my ear; "It's the kids... they aim for the young."

Instantly, he covered his ears, pressing hard against his head; like desperate. I could tell he was suffering from how his body was twisting. I panicked as I recollected the discrepancies that manifested on our way back to the house; the bizarre detachment after finding Damien, the nonsense, the apparent trauma suppression...

While I was stressed tying eventualities, the power went out. Everyone went paranoid seeking the safest place in the house; away from windows and doors —quiet and alert; trying to pick up whatever noise that could be heard. 

In the silence, Ernest could be heard murmuring. He seemed to be looking for serenity with a prayer. The circumstances weren't helping, there was no way not to be distressed and anxious. Nothing had happened yet, but yesterday's blackout appeared to be loud enough to awake death itself —and today we weren't expecting it to be any better. We all held hands and joined in orison. I told the kids to calm down and close their eyes no matter what.

The silence was deafening, my heart was pounding and I was short of breath. My children must have been scared to death; they haven't seen anything, but I assure that they must feel our despair. I was desperate and so minded; willing to offer my life for everyone in here —reluctant in my thoughts; objecting —why the children; who have not yet lived life, who have not had the opportunity to contribute... by what right are they denied the opportunity to accumulate memories —to unmaliciously borrow the essence of nature?

Resigned to be submerged in fear, I opened my eyes and noticed that Ernest's body was limp, his head was completely laid back —like resting on his back. I poked Susanne with my shoe and guided her attention to him. As soon as she moved, Ernest's head started bouncing rapidly. A low-pitched sound was emanating from his wide open mouth; like a distorted tantara. After a couple of seconds, he started gagging, stopped trembling, and went back to his limp state.

Susanne covered her eyes worried; walking backward, shaking her head while whispering, "No, no, no..." Wailing, she said, "This is not him, I knew it wasn't him who came back with you. That's not Ernest, that is not my husband sitting on that chair."

She slid down the wall to the floor and in denial, asked, "What should we do? Is he a threat now?"

We all stayed silent because a difficult decision had to be made.

While thinking, a bright light illuminated the house. The outside was also bright, as it if was daylight. We all knew this was the beginning of the end. I perceived a strong energy wave; the air felt charged and somehow intense. This, followed by a hard pound on my roof, howling winds, and doors and windows rattling violently.

Suddenly, both of my kids went on the air, floating, and instantly fell back to the ground as a loud screech resonated with echo all over. Fighter jets were heard passing by, which seemed to be what attracted whatever was trying to take my children. This was what I thought as the wind howled fiercely; serving as the medium for these invisible entities to travel through. Whatever they were; they were now after the jets, or moving towards the same direction. Apparently, authorities gave up on the idea of not repelling the attack.

As we ran towards the kids, explosions were heard, and a strong earthquake urged us to go outside as the structure of the house started to crumble, leaving Earnest behind. Knowing that death was inevitable, we all huddled together in the middle of the road, Susanne apologizing to her husband in her murmurs as Ana and I tried to protect the kids.

Suddenly, darkness began to cover the sky, when an unconceivably enormous shadow moved from the ground to the highest spot —over the clouds.

The ground began to give way, huge segments collapsing, dragging us down with them.

As we fell through an endless void, a huge eye-like structure appeared in the shadow. Everything stopped momentarily, all matter levitating while time seemed to defy its own limits.

Finally, after the space was enough for a being's life surge to be manifested, the umbra faded away while colossal pieces of crystals fell onto what was left of firm ground.

The children remained in the air, floating and untouched, while Ana and I merged with the cold nothingness —or what in my last cerebral stimulation as a terrestrial I called the absolute emptiness.