*You slowly edge away from the door, silently sliding on a pair of shoes before sneaking through to the back garden.*
*You vault the fence into the alleyway. Your measured steps quicken to become jog and then a run. You hear a noise from behind your. Your home, falling into a sink hole. A voice booms.*
*You run, screaming, into the busy street. No one looks up. They are all well-versed in agony. "Help me" you cry. "2016 is coming". 2016 is already here, their eyes say. We've seen its face. The voice reverberates between buildings.*
*You made it to the rock. Your solitary shack on the edge of the world. The waves beat upon the foundations. Cold, miserable, terrified, you light the fire. Its warmth fills you and you begin to sob. You got away.
But that voice. It plays upon your mind. 2016. 2016.*
*You look up as the roof is ripped open, like a salt and shake crisp packet. Above you the sky burns, a million plumes of smoke erupting and dying out every moment. There, it stands. Tall, thick, inescapable letters, spelling the name of the apocalypse.*
*You take a deep breath.*
*You fall into it, like a daydream, or a fever. Darkness, and then nothing, and then everything was well.*
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