An odd little tale that I had a bit too much fun with
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We huddle together in the darkness, as if we had choice in the matter- the confines of this place are almost comically small. A sharp, metallic tang pervades the air, but as we wait, as we have done for seemingly countless days, it has been slowly joined by what is by now a near-tangible sense of foreboding. We have done nothing to deserve this. We have done nothing, period. And we continue to do nothing until the moment an unnatural hush settles heavily upon us and we finally hear the sound we have been dreading.
He is coming.
Everyone is still... waiting, hoping that he passes us over. But we have no blood on our lintels, and our moments are numbered. And then that number reaches zero.
One by one we are forced out, violently, that unspeakable noise announcing the moment each blinks into nothingness. Some try to take grim hope that perhaps our fate is not pointless, and by giving up our existence we are, in a small way, helping others to continue on. But I see their silver lining for what it is: insult to injury. There is nothing noble about this forced sacrifice. The good of the one does not take precedence over the good of the many, and if it takes a hundred of us to even make the smallest difference... I know with every fiber of my being that it is not right, it is not just.
Once even I was tempted to feel some sympathy for the sad little man who batters this world at his whim, but in my final moments my heart is hardened and my resolve is steeled.
I curse you, Italian plumber. For hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee.
