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Greg, a young man in his mid-twenties, runs breathlessly through the fresh snow that blankets the alley. When he is sure that the assailant that was pursuing him had given up, he pauses and takes deep, ragged breaths as he tries to regain his composer. Through the heaviness of his breathing, he hears the crunch of snow between the assailant’s footsteps. He doesn’t bother to look in the direction of the sound. Instead, he continues to run further into the darkening alley. Suddenly, everything goes black.
Greg awakens in an alley and sits up. He rubs his head and cringes at the throbbing pain. He unsteadily picks himself up off the ground and brushes the snow from his clothes. He stumbles out of the alley and begins to trudge aimlessly through the snow-covered streets, mumbling incoherently aloud as he rubs his arms with numb hands. The sound of his own voice echoes through the desolate street as he calls out in hopes to get a response. The sound makes him nearly jump out of his skin at first, but hearing the echo also provides a soothing quality to him. He gazes around the vacant street only to see several abandoned vehicles and buildings standing ominously before him. There is no sign of life and he shudders at the realization that he is completely alone.
He doesn’t quite know what he is doing or what he is looking for. There isn’t much that he can recall before the accident happened. Hell, he didn’t even remember what the accident was. The only thing he could remember is that he woke up in an alley. And now, there is nothing. There are only the buildings that have wide open doors and the vehicles that are left looking as though the drivers and passengers had left in a hurry. Even though his instincts tell him otherwise, he still approaches a couple of the buildings to peer inside.
Greg scoffs at himself as tears well up in his eyes. He reaches a numb hand up to his face to wipe the tears away. He sighs deeply, trying to decide which way to go. He heads in the direction that he hopes is the way home.
As the buildings grow farther apart, he notices a cemetery up ahead. Feeling uneasy, he quickens his pace.
Soft whispers can be heard as he passes the cemetery gates. He pauses and strains his ears. Regardless of where he is at the moment, he is ecstatic to hear the voices of fellow humans. A smile spreads widely across his face as he pushes the gates open and enters the cemetery, in hopes of discovering the source of the whispering.
Greg quickly locates the source of the whispers and his face falls, turning ashen. What he is hearing are the whispers of the dead. The people that once lived in this lively city are now all dead. Each body has its own unique death. He tries to choke back the urge to vomit. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement. As fear grips him, he slowly turns his head in the direction that the movement is coming from. What he sees makes his skin crawl and causes him to vomit. As his stomach heaves, the realization of what he has seen hits him with such force that he can’t breath. In a flash, the memory of what has happened comes back to him.
He remembers the reason why he had awakened in the alley; he was attacked and brutally beaten by the assailant that was pursuing him. He couldn’t recall if the assailant was human or something else.
“Nothing human could have done this to so many people,” he blurts out as he stares blankly at the remains of the people who are decorated with their own organs and blood.
His eyes eventually fall upon one person in particular. He steps closer to the body to get a better look. The body’s intestines are used as a sort of necklace with the heart representing a charm. The body he is staring at is his own. He falls to his knees, his hands covering his face as he realizes that he is now a ghost, destined to haunt the Earth for all of eternity.