I leave the storefronts behind,
their tinted-green windows reflecting the bright sunlight.
I hurry toward the boardwalk and beach.
The soft sand will trickle through my toes.
The sea breeze propels me forward.
Beyond the white sand,
the waves dance and writhe in a demented dance,
a dance growing wilder by the minute.
The palm trees bow their heads to the wind.
Rooftops sail through the air.
Glass crunches beneath my feet
as I run through the streets.
The windows hang broken and twisted.
The saddest sight is the church.
The once-white church stands charcoal-black,
debris at its proud feet.
They’re here.
The deadly games have begun.
THE DEAD GAME
PREY FOR THE DEAD
