• Early one morning, on a cool copper patio, sat a girl, drawing a picture and sipping coffee. She looked and listened. Her yard full of dead, brown rotting leaves, scattered on the sidewalk. No chiding chirps, no motors spurts not even the rustle of the wind. Silence only answered. Swaying figures flock the horizon, swaying to and fro. A man with a withered black horse and black miasma, leads them in a mindless march.

    That evening, at a local grocer, stood a boy, listening to his mp3 and texting. No one listened, no one looked, but he did. Looking about, produce promptly disappeared, bodies bunched, waiting lines, people ransacked. Walking with a wicked smile, pocketed hands with a peppered step; he left the store, to see the world. Dueling denizens, scrap for food, a rust colored horse, fiery red mane, it's rider, a man, ignites the air with madness.

    Dimly near dusk, empty street, the boy and girl packed up essentials. No one to see them, no one for them to see, just the task at hand: survival. Screeches sliced the air, fires blossomed blood red, provisions perished. People panicked perilously around. Searching, fighting, fleeing, cowering and cavorting crazily with glee. All hungered in famine, a horsemen on a grey scrawny steed, walks with a swarm of fleas in its wake.

    Now night, in a fortified flat, the pair prepare, with their rifles and ammo. They could be seen and all could see them, even the masses of the mad. Steadily secured upon the roof, they peer proficiently down their scopes. Searching, waiting, watching for terrible threats swaying to and fro. Frothing freaks of frightening forge, claw ravenously, bellow the insatiable, crave flesh, a pale white horse and rider rush, ushering a cloud of death.

    Flitting furiously, the horsemen charge the pair...

    Surging swiftly they take their last stand!