1 A Drizzle

The small raindrops of a drizzle fell upon the world, like small bullets from the sky. The soft buzz of the water as it hit the ground filling the air.

It had been raining for the past week, thought the boy. Looking out the window, he witnessed a city empty and barren. The streets lay quiet and empty, only filled by the small streams of water that made their way to the drains along the sidewalk.

Just a couple months ago, these very same streets would have the occasional passerby and cheery note of a friendly hello, but those days were long gone and the plague had taken hold.

It was a funny thing. The government had scrambled to send the nation into lockdown but had done so far too little, far too late to have any real effect. Economic woes were felt and yet the plague still ran rampant, a deary air filling every waking moment.

This, however, was not what the boy thought, for he was far too young to understand such things. In truth, he was saddened that his parents, though now at home with him, were too engrossed in their work to spend any time with him. With a small hop from the chair he stood on, he landed on the floor and scampered into the living room.

It was a dim place with only the single light over the coffee table, where a single hollow figure sat, cast in the empty blue light of a screen. An empty mug stood cold by the clicking keys and whirl of the device.

A pair of curious eyes peeked over the couch, glinting in the blue light. The woman turned around with a weary smile on her lips, reaching out her hand and ruffling the boy's short black hair. Even the boy could tell that she was tired and that the endless hours spent at home were beginning to grate at her. He ducked from his mother's hand and ran around the couch, and into her arms, wrapping his little arms around her waist.

She smiled and kissed his forehead, whispering,

"We can play later, James. I've got work to do right now."

The boy smiled and ran off in search of something to do.

…

A knock resounded through the house, accompanied by a voice.

"Mrs Peterson, are you there?"

There is a movement from the couch, now stained and dirty, a haggard creature walks. The wrinkled skin moves on the bone as it staggers to the door.

The woman says in a weak voice, as she opens the door," What do you-"

A second became a million and the air became still.

A creature long and spindly loomed over her, caked in patches of long wiry hair, it's head contorted and twisted. Bones too long and features twisted in horrid ways, flesh sloughing and sagging near joints, this thing was revolting. Not to mention the smell that permeated the air, a stench that could only be described as that of a rotting corpse that had not been cleaned of its bowels upon death.

A shriek filled the air, and in her panic, an umbrella was the first thing to come into her hands. With frantic blows, she struck at the monster.

With a clatter, it fell, tangled and messy limbs collapsing as it hit the ground.

A slam resounded through the air, as fear stewed in the little white house that creaked and crumbled.