Engelskanovell. Skriven på ca 3 timmar, ihjälstressad. Dålig. Men ändock, novell! Något skrivet! Bättre än inget. Som vanligt blir styckeindelning osv fuckad men använd fantasin.

When Brian woke up that morning, he had no idea that it was going to be his last morning on earth. When he got out of bed and brushed his teeth, combed his hair, got dressed and ate a slice of dry bread for breakfast, he had no idea it was the last time he was going to do so. He did not notice that his time was running out, as sand through an hourglass, one grain at the time, just as impossible to stop as an avalanche.

 

What he did notice though, when he glimpsed out his kitchen window, was that the sky did not have its usual pink morning glow, but a deep violet shade instead. He put down his half-eaten slice of bread and walked closer to the window in order to get a better view. He could see that the violet sky had clouds, but they were not white and comfortable looking, like normal clouds. No, these clouds had a sickly greenish color. Brian thought they looked poisonous.

 

Suddenly he heard screams coming from the street in front of his house. He ran to his front door and swung it open. A second later, he wished he had not done so.

 

In the middle of the street he saw his next door neighbor Deborah, a young woman with blonde hair, lying flat on her back. Her once pretty face had been badly cut and her body had been mutilated. Brian could see as much as five other bodies down the street and he identified the ones that still had their faces on as friends and neighbors. He then took two steps out on his porch, leaned over the fence and vomited.

 

When the convulsions finally stopped, Brian took three deep breaths and turned around, careful not to look at the street or the bodies that lay there, and went inside. He closed the door firmly behind him, took another deep breath and then walked into his living room.

 

He switched on the television. There was no picture. He turned on the radio. There was only static. He sat down on the couch. His eyes were pounding behind their lids, so he pressed his hands against them. He sat like that for a long time and did not feel anything other than the pounding of his eyes against his hands.

 

But then he felt thirsty and warm, so he got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Distracted, he picked up his dry slice of bread from the table and started to eat it, whilst pouring a glass of water. Later when he had finished eating, and emptied four glasses of water, he felt a little bit better. He realized he could not stay in his house. But where should he go? Brian thought long and hard before deciding to head for a bigger city, where it would be easier to find other people and information. He figured there must have been some kind of invasion from a foreign country and that they must have used some sort of biochemical weapon in order to turn the sky purple. Maybe there were no radio-or television broadcasts because the government reckoned that would be safer. Brian felt comforted by these thoughts, and repressed every memory of the torn-apart bodies on the street.

 

When he had packed a rucksack with food, water, clothes, a flashlight and some other stuff he figured were good to bring along as well, he went down into his basement and opened his gun cabinet. Brian’s father had taught him how to hunt when he was a little boy, and Brian owned two hunting rifles. He brought them both, along with some spare ammunition.

 

He decided not to go out through the front door, but to use the kitchen door that led out to his small backyard instead. He walked quietly on the soft, well-cut grass and held one of the rifles in his arms. He climbed over the fence that marked the end of his yard, and headed south with the help of a compass.

 

When he had walked for about an hour, he could see a thick pillar of smoke rising on the horizon, and under it the dark silhouette of a city against bright flames. His heart sank as he moved closer to the burning city. But then he saw a group of dark shapes coming towards him, a group of people he figured, and behind them another. Brian waved and yelled at them to come and talk with him, but they seemed not to see him. But he heard one of the people in the group call out to him, only he could not make out the words.

 

The second group of people had almost caught up with the first one. Brian intended to try and make contact with them as well, but then his breath was knocked out of him and he started shaking.

 

The second group was not at all made up out of people, like he had first thought. It was made up out of three horrifying creatures, with skin that looked like dark leather, and claws so huge Brian could see them clearly, despite the distance. As he watched, they caught up to the group of people, and started attacking them. He could not look away from the bloodbath, even though it made him sick. The creatures had struck him with such fear that he could not move even though he wanted to.

 

Then Brian heard a soft whisper, sort of like the sound sails make when they catch a good wind, from behind him. He turned around just in time to see an enormous monster emerging from the violet sky. It was surrounded by smaller flying creatures, and one of them was heading right at Brian. He closed his eyes, and as the jaws of the creature tore his flesh apart, he saw the image of an empty hourglass on the back of his lids.