I was at home when it happened. I was staring at the carpet. It was stale with age. The various stains bug me and I half heartedly consider cleaning it. The shadows of my childhood dance around me as I stare at the worn thing. It doesn’t matter where I go, as long as I have that rug I will have a peace of home.

And then the sirens start up. A sharp harsh cry destroys the silence. The cry we have come to think of as death. And then, the world falls into absolute chaos. In response to certain death, almost all creatures have the same thought. Run. The roach always runs from the boot. Sometimes it works. However when an entire densely populated city starts to flee in unison, this does not work.

I am no exception. There is only a short length before you get to the stairs in my building. On this floor we only have three tenants. We run out to find all of Mrs Chesterfields dogs. The she has three Great Danes that are the size of horses. She tries to wrangle them down the stairs to no avail.

And then world turns white. That one moment seems to last an eternity. Oddly there’s no noise. And then the world is thrown backwards. I am pinned to the wall by the metal bookcase. The first thing I see is what was Mrs Chesterfields dogs. At least I think they are. Blown back into one another, their skin melts into one another creating and horrific amalgamation of the body’s. And then I feel an odd sensation on my head. I reach back to touch it only to feel some awful foul cream. Startled, I bring back my hand to my face and see what I come to realize, is my skin.

I stumble into my room. The ceiling has fallen down in some places. I fall onto the floor and lay on my carpet. I feel my head pouring out and onto the carpet. I try to stand up but I can’t. I close my eyes, waiting for death. My hands stroke the rug the same way I did when I was a child. And then my mother is there. And she sings me to sleep.