Everything Was Dread

They said the apocalypse had come.

I don’t even remember who they are, just being shoved into the mouth of this dark space.

I think we had practiced, because I remember what it looked like from above. I remember the feeling of telling myself that it would all be okay when I had to go in there, that it would not last, that it would not be today.

When the day came, everything was dread, terror, clawing at the door frame, screaming, and the rough hands pushing, forcing me inside. Surely what was out there was better than what was in here. The door was sealed. I pounded, I screamed, but no one came, or heard. The door was cleverly concealed. I remember a voice proudly proclaiming how safe it was.

A safe prison.
A hole.
As long as no one could get to me, I was safe.

Was I?

I rocked and held my knees and cried until I was too tired to care. I slept until I was too sore and hungry to lie down. I ate until I was stuffed and went back to sleep.

Then I sat.

All I know is, I’m alive.

But why?

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