|Written||5 September 2019|
|Also posted at||Chromographia|
Is this it? I think...
The Smog is everywhere now. And so are the monsters. We lost the war against the abominations. The future of humanity was at stake and we lost. All of it. Everything we worked for, all that we built, no longer ours.
Defeated, only survival lies ahead. If that.
So much death without blood. The Things detest it. There is killing, but no corpses. Only dry bones. And yet, the unforgettable, sickly sweet stench of decay hangs in the air for day after sunless day. And that mixed into the cursed Smog with every noxious gas ever belched out by our smokestacks.
Sometimes, when the Smog is particularly thick, I smell chlorine gas. Smell is probably the wrong word. The stuff burns my sinuses like a blowtorch and sears my eyes like a storm of dust. The stuff should be killing me, but logic doesn't work anymore. There are skyscrapers which have huge chunks missing from them, but they still stand. Some even float entirely on clouds of Smog.
Fragments of the Old Order of things have their own lives now. My memories, etchings and videos want nothing to do with me.
I don't know if anyone else is out there. I'm still hiding, in the gaps in the Smog. And maybe there are other Smog Hollows out there.