It is March 21^st, a dreaded Sunday evening, and I am counting my last seconds. The blinding headlights, of the three vehicles I am surrounded by and the voices of policemen yelling at me to get down, as they shoot their guns, at the monsters around us, bring me no worry. What scares me, is the hole in the sky, and most of all, the things behind it. Some words ring through my mind, during these final moments. Words of regret, maybe? Or words of anger? With certainty, I can not tell. But I know this. Something, has arrived to take me from whence I came. I lament my fate for the last time, as the gates of that dreaded prison, open, and my life flashes before my eyes.

It really is a dreaded Sunday evening, just like that time...

Again, the 21^st of March. I hadn’t left my apartment, for two weeks, due to a country wide pandemic. Something vile, had permeated the air, a virus, I think. Something like an airborne strain of rabies that infected only humans. At least, that’s what they said on the news, before one of the anchors turned feral and bit into his co-workers neck. Up until that point, I didn’t think the human body could spurt out that much blood. Nothing but screams, and the occasional crunch could be heard, as he tore the flesh off her bones. I still vividly remember, the sight of her body contorting in pain, before she finally went limp. I spent the first two weeks, cowering in fear. I locked every entrance to my apartment, spent most of my time obsessively checking every door and window, for signs of a possible intrusion, over, and over again. I made do with the food I had for the first few days, which left me literally starving the next week or so.  Despite my paranoia, nothing interesting happened for the majority of the time I spent in that apartment. The occasional bump in the night kept me vigilant, along with my rather remarkable self preservation drive. “I just have to wait it out”, I thought to myself. “Eventually, people in hazmat suits, will knock on my door and save me”. Two weeks had gone by, and the hunger kept getting worse. I was skin and bones, craving for a bite of anything, really. I spent my time compulsively checking my phone, which didn’t have reception since this whole thing started. My family hadn’t come to check up on me either, I couldn’t blame them. If I was in their place, that’d be the last thing on my mind. But still, I stupidly hoped for, at least a message, a distraction perhaps. Anything to keep my mind off the hunger. Coddled up in a corner of my room, I rocked back and forth praying it would all come to an end. I knew, that I couldn’t keep going  for much longer, maybe a couple of days at most, and even that, was wishful thinking. My prayers would be cut short, by a familiar sound, coming from the small device which was laid down on the floor. My phone rang. Filled with excitement and hope, I uttered “finally”, as my hands reached out for it. Suddenly, the sound of ringing stopped. And on my phone, a message was displayed: “One missing call from Renon”. Who this “Renon” was, I couldn’t possibly know, as no one I was personally acquainted with shared the name, in fact, I had never heard of it. Nonetheless, it was a pleasant surprise, as I was deprived of human contact for quite some time. I dialled Renon’s number, only to lose reception once again. It was then, that I noticed, something strange. I, wasn’t hungry anymore. “I hadn’t eaten anything for a week, so why-“, the thought entered my mind, only for a moment, before it was interrupted by a familiar sound. As the screen on my phone lit up, I saw that I had received a dozen messages, from Renon. Strangely enough, my phone still didn’t have reception. Meaning, that this person sent me a message that wasn’t supposed to be delivered, and I had no clue how. A chill ran down my spine, as I started reading the oncoming array of texts. The feeling one of the messages gave me, I can not describe. What I was reading could not be defined, as sentences, or words. They were not comprised of letters, or any other character known to man. They had no form, no structure, yet conveyed their meaning effortlessly. This “text”, was a product of something horrible. That, was clear as day. “It was rude of you, not to answer my call”, a voice behind me quitely uttered. Startled, I jumped back, my eyes darted across the room, up and down, left and right, only to find... that I was alone. I shuddered, as the voice spoke again. “But, I have other ways of reaching you”. “Who are you?!”, I yelled out, as my gaze frantically slid from one corner of my vision to another, trying to focus on something that wasn’t there. “How did you get here?! Where are you?!”. Terrified of getting an answer, and with my emaciated body, struggling to drag itself to the bedroom door, I screamed. “Get out of my house!”. Suddenly, I felt, something, latch onto my neck. I squirmed, and writhed, trying to free myself, as it pulled me away from the bedroom. It grabbed me tightly, pressed its fingers into my throat. And squeezed. I felt, my throats tender flesh cave in, and every blood vessel in my head burst... It killed me. I experienced death, for the first time. The next thing I expected, was either blinding lights, or the dim red hue of hellfire, but I got, something else. I awoke, tied to a chair facing the front door of my apartment. Confused, I tried to look around, but then a pair of hands locked my head in place. The shock, prevented me from screaming. A voice echoed, just out of sight, the same voice I heard before. “John Morne”, he said, and tightened his grip on the sides of my head, as if to keep me focused on the door in front of me. He cleared his throat, and posed the question: “Do you know my name?”. At the moment, it wasn’t hard putting two and two together. I received a phone call, from someone I didn’t remember adding to my contacts list. He sent me, an array of horrifying text messages I couldn’t decipher. Then, someone broke into my apartment, and assumedly killed me, only for me to wake up strapped to a chair. “The isolation drove me mad”, I mouthed quietly. The voice chuckled, and said: “Is that the best you can come up with, John? Something unordinary finally happens, and you think you’ve gone insane? That’s indicative of a brittle sense of reality, in my opinion. But, coming from you, that’s not surprising. After all, it takes some balls to reject everything you’ve ever known”. “What are you talking about?”, I asked. “You still haven’t answered my question, John. Do you know my name?”, he said, while tightening his grip. I yelled out in pain. The skull crushing pressure that was being exerted on my head, and the sound of bone cracking, was all I could think about. Without the pain keeping me focused, I would have probably fainted. And god knows the horrors that would ensue, in case that happened. “Are you Renon?”,  gritting my teeth, I asked. The man’s grip loosened, as he said: “I am. Now, do you know why I’m here?”. “N-No”, I nervously answered. He sighed, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. There was something missing, in our interaction. Clearly, something important. The way he was addressing me, seemed almost robotic, routinely even. The unsettling aura he gave off, even in his speech, unnerved me. Gave me ideas, thoughts I didn’t want to accept, or even ponder. “You sent me, that text message, right? What does it mean?”, I asked, and felt the pressure on my skull, suddenly dissipate. I could hear the sounds of footsteps, reverberating through the room, and let out a sigh of relief, as I realized, that he had let go. I was given reprieve, only for an instant. I knew that he was still there, always at the edge of my sight, lurking, waiting for me to say the wrong word, make the wrong move... I shuddered in fear, while remembering that skull splitting pain. And that brief moment, of nothing, I experienced before waking up. “The message, I sent you? What I sent you, was not a message. It was a manual”, he said. “A manual?”, I wondered in confusion. “A guidebook if you will. Nothing more, than a set of instructions... On how to end the world”. There are no words, which could properly describe the malice, he said that with. If one could physically feel, the coarse caress of hatred and distain for something so deeply perverted, then perhaps they could explain, a fraction, of what I felt in that moment. “You will learn its importance, in due time. But right now, you don’t have to bother trying to understand it. Just relax and take a deep breath. I’m gonna try and make this simple”, he said, and put his hands on my shoulders. I could feel his oddly cold breath, raise the hairs on my neck as he spoke. “Did you ever feel like some things, just aren’t right? And more importantly, did you ever feel like, some things aren’t even real?”. “W-Why would you ask me that question?”, I wondered. “Why?! Oh John. Because, this isn’t the first time, we’ve had this conversation. That wasn’t the first time I killed you, nor was it the first time you woke up strapped to this chair... No, no, no. You and me, my friend, have been talking, for a very long time".