Building 12 “Hailstone”

“There is blood on my mind. It is what keeps me up at night, even more than the hailstone striking against the roof.

It is the way of the curse. It was the way of the curse.

The way of that horror lurking in the edges of my mind. The world spins off its axis, tittering on the incremental edges of oblivion. A little act here, a little ritual there, and the inches we travel towards our own demise ends for a little while. We are bought a reprieve, but the cost may be simply more than we should be willing to pay.

So I do a little this, and I do a little that, and that is enough to keep the darkness back.

I do a little this, and I do a little that, and that is enough to make the dark come back.

She is still sleeping inside, waiting for the time of Her release. But She doesn't know yet, and how could She know...

I have always assumed that She sleeps without dreaming...but......

Wait...

hold on....

What if She isn't dead? Buried...

What if She isn't dead, but dreaming? What if She will be not be a revelation to her. Not a sudden curse of action, but instead what if she is a transformation. A manipulation? A listening, whispering thing that is waiting for her to hear its words. If that is true, really how much time do we have exactly?

No time.

No time to find out.

Does she suspect?

I don't think so.

It is still early I think, though I really can't remember for sure.

The...it....shifts and muddles things about so quickly that there is really no assurances at all that we are on the correct path.

The right ritual.

I don't know how I can go home to my kids. This set of kids are such good boys and they simply have no idea what is going to happen and what I need to do to prevent it.

I haven't told Mindy either. Some of them understand but she doesn't seem to be the type.

For what it is worth, I hope that this will be the last one. I don't take pleasure or find peace in all of the carnage and the pain. I am just having to do what I have to to make sure that we come back to the right place. So many people, all to arrive at this moment once again.

Some of the ones are slipping through at an alarming rate. I thought that I was certain of how many survived.

Their world consumed. Just as they all are.

She doesn't know yet.

All she seems to suspect is that there is horror coming.

That she isn't normal.

That would take the fight right out of me when I found that out.

Somehow, they all find the will and the wherewithal to keep on going until the end.

And they all, much to my despair, reach their end.

I am so tired of running.

Why can't this be the last time? Why can't this be the last of my kids who I have to learn their birthday and what their favorite food is. Please tell me that I don't have to do this again, ending up in a reality where they are all long since dead.

That was my third time.

How many times has it been?

You wouldn't think I would be able to recall that far back after all I have seen.

But that one world sticks with me through it all.

You never forget your first time.

The first time you see a world on fire where you don't have years to prepare or even minutes. The first time I saw a world that was already doomed and dead.

The mockery come and gone, and all that is left is the silent death and the cold so cold that you don't even register anything other than being tired. Of wanting to sleep.

She wants to sleep.

They all do.

Please let this be the last one.

Oh gods, please.

Please.

Pleasure

Pain.

End.

Forget.

She doesn't know.”

Merry Christmas from the entire family.

We love you.

I love you.

That was my new years resolution.

Didn't take me very long at all lol.