They called it a bit of a slump. I assume it's because Hellscape of Existential Desolation sounded the teeniest self-indulgent, even for an East Side therapist.  A slump is what they call it when you prefer to walk at night and you don't like company. I've have a glass of wine, only one, let's not be dramatic, and walk until the barest hint of sun told me to give it up. The paths of the lonely in a city are heavily-trod, and my feet fit right in, sliding along between all-night coffee shops and the kind of bar  clear-eyed people pass and say, "That's who I used to be." Someone should tell them it's who they still are in dim light. It's the parks, of course. The parks are where the truly alone go, so our footsteps can be with other footsteps who know better than to ask questions.

She turns around and comes face to face with the creature that followed her. Its eyes stare at her, full of hatred. This morning she thought the only horror she’d face was the slump she seemed stuck in but no, she just had to trod into a worse fate. Her desire to scream rises but she does not for fear it’ll attack. For a second, she dwells on the desolation she had encumbered herself in and then makes a foolish choice. You see there’s no such thing as reasoning with a monster, especially one so full of hatred and hunger. Yet, she moves like a peace offering, her hands out as she backs away.

It is useless as the creature pounces on her, eating her up until there’s nothing left of her to see.

I had never been in more of a slump then this. I knew this life was going to be a difficult one but I wasn’t prepared for any of this. I figured because of what we are it meant we had power over them. That they feared and respected us. Why wouldn’t I be able to feed off anyone I wanted to. I was sadly mistaken, now I must trod carefully if I want to stay out of trouble from the council. I wish I could say that I had the strength to obey their laws, but I was just too hungry. I guess feeding off the mayor’s son is a big no no. Now thanks to the vampire council, as punishment, I must be in desolation for a year without feeding. Lucky me.

Billy’s up highest, kinda snugged up in a crevice overlooking the road from Desolation. He found these binoculars, well, ‘ceptin ’ one lens was smashed so I reckon they were monoculars, musta been tossed by the army when they evacuated everyone outta town. We hid but they didn’t look for us very hard like they did for the special ones, the ones with money, the ones who could pay the bastards not to kill them when they got to Desolation Camp. Pastor Warren told us they figured we were too trod on or something to be worth the extra search, we’d be, like, too hungry and sick to be good workers anyway. Silver Lining, boys, he’d say to keep our spirits up when one of us would slump into despair in the early days, before the army bosses realized what a hell-hole this county is, so hot you can barely drag yourself from shade to shade most days, I mean, think about it, a whole county called Desolation and if that don’t convince you, they got a county seat with the same name. So much desolation.

The army left a while back, couldn’t hack all the desolation any more and neither could the guards they left behind; one day last week those guards looked at each other and shrugged and just left, walked away down the dusty road without so much as a goodbye; at least they had the grace to unlock the gates.

Every few hours now we take up sentry on the road, looking out for the former prisoners who figured out they ain’t prisoners no more and have walked for two days to see if any of what once was, still is. Billy has point today and me and KevKev are waiting just around the bend to escort them home. There ain’t nothing in the world like seeing their faces when they get it that they’re home again.

Scott was in a slump. It was understandable to feel down, in the midst of a pandemic. In his final semester at Columbia, he tried to will himself to keep studying and living life as normally as possible. As he trod toward Trader Joe’s from his apartment, he felt the desolation of a city still struggling. There were fewer people clogging the sidewalks, but those who remained looked grim and haggard. Some restaurants had gotten creative with outdoor seating, but many other storefronts were shuttered. He gave himself a mental pep talk. This wouldn’t be forever. He was young and handsome and had great friends. It was just as his thoughts turned more positive that he saw her - a beautiful young woman around his age, cheerful, glowing, and buoyant.

Relief weakened Ellis’s knees, and she slumped against the wall. Her mind reeled, unable to comprehend the victory she and Zeph had won, even as she sat in the midst of shattered glass and the flickering remnant of the witch’s dark magic. Her skin was feverish with spell-casting, and she brushed at tendrils of curses that clung to her skirts.

Pushing herself away from the wall, she trod with weary feet across the room to Zeph. His grin was bright as sunshine, though dark magic still smudged across his freckled face. The magic sparked, bright and malevolent, startling Ellis so that she flung a repellent spell at Zephyr’s face without thinking. With a flash, he rocketed backwards across the room, crashing into a banquet table with enough force that it splintered. Ellis gasped and sprinted after him, her heartbeat thundering under a layer of clammy sweat and dread.

But her cries were met with laughter that rang with victory. Zeph glowed under a layer of his own protecting magic, and in a moment he had swept all thoughts of desolation from Ellis’s mind with an enchantingly perfect kiss.

As of now I am in a slump. The words you said trod on my heart and soul, breaking and crushing it into tiny pieces. Why did this have to happen? We were so close. I loved you with my entire being. The breakup was so unexpected. Mutual, but still unexpected. I didn’t even see it coming. This is not normal but I cried with you there because it hurt so much. I am in a state of utter desolation.

Slumped in a decrepit wooden chair he peers about his empty living room. A bottle tumbles from his hand, adding to its overall bleakness. He moans, pulls himself to his feet, and trods to the refrigerator. As he peels it open he is forced to squint at the bright light that emanates from it. Grabbing another cool brown bottle he lurches back to his seat, collapsing into it. With stained teeth he cracks the bottle open and spits the cap near this drinks predecessors. Eyelids heavily batting he catches alternating glimpses of the desolation and oblivion he has worked himself into.

Her heart so full of desolation I couldn’t begin to imagine the depths of her agony. But still she rises. Still she stands. Still she runs away from the slump of which try’s to bring her down every single day. The whispers of it say ‘stay here, cry, hate, wallow sicken, fall apart’. NO. she silences them often and quickly. With her head ever so high the trod of her is godly she is strong. She is brave and she is fierce. She is the definition of a women.

I walked in in the wood. As I looked around the bare and desolate land of beautifully bar bark, I trod across the river of orange points. I took energy from the land. I let it create me yet again. My worth was slumped and decreasing with each tick of a clock. Like the move I scurried to the land of trees, crooked and droop. I found my desertion in the desolation of society. My escape is the world, the true world that everyone seems to forget about. How ironic to be everything and yet.