The world is dying.
Falling to pieces, but maybe,
Just maybe,
Love can put it back together.
Or will hate tear it apart?
Good must arise.


2. Blackout

Enraged, Eric slammed his fist on the table. The glass mug with Garfield on it started to fall, he dived to catch it, causing him to hit his head on the corner of the table, and the ceramic cup miss his fingers and shatter against the linoleum. An inch long shard impaled his outstretched fingertips.

Swearing, he rubbed the back of his head.

With a sting of pain, he pulled the shard of glass from his index finger. Holding it gingerly, he turned the knob to the kitchen sink, so the cold water could wash off the blood. It wouldn't turn on. He turned it again. Still, no water came from the tap.

"What the hell!" He shouted in frustration.

Muttering curses, he exited his house, shutting the mahogany door with the pretty designed window, still holding his injured hand.

He knocked on the neighbor's door. Maybe their water worked. "Miss Francis! Hey Miss Francis let me—"

The old woman's wrinkled face, and little glasses far down her long crooked nose, opened the door a crack. "Young man, these are troubled times! What are you doing, standing there, screaming your head off?! Come in, come in, and quickly," She looked both directions. "They might be watching us."

"Who might be—"

She grabbed his wrist and dragged him indoors.

"Jeez, can't finish a sentence around here." He muttered to himself.

The house was small and cramped. The walls were a soft lavender color, with purple curtains decorating the windows. Small pink furniture littered the floor, and a tiny glass coffee table sat in the middle. Tea stains decorated the no longer white carpeting.

"Sit down, sit down." The old woman said. She looked so fragile, wispy grey hair, braided down to her waist, gold braclets covering her arms, huge hooped earrings hanging from her sagging earlobes, and a long purple dress falling over her tiny slim figure. Despite that, she had a fierce look of a fighter in her eye.

"Edward, where is Sandy and Ramilda?"

Eric decided not to try to convince this mad crazy woman he and his family's actual names.

"I'm not quite sure." He rubbed his head, feeling the bruise forming, aching for his wife in his arms, and his daughter home, safe and happy.

Her sharp green eyes gazed at him "The United States is on lockdown."

Eric frowned "Why?"

"No one here in the United Kingdom has been able to contact them. The whole world is on a blackout, but there's something bad over there. Especially in New York."

"We won't know what it is until it hits here, will we." Eric said, with a sinking feeling, not even portraying his question as a question, more like a bitter wish.

She shook her head, jewelry jingling. "Kids have gone missing. Adults now too. People say you hear one scream, look back, and poof, no one's there anymore.'

"That happened to my wife and our daughter. I don't know where they've gone." Eric said in distress.

"Sweetie, I don't know. But I do know the best way to find this out."

Eric looked straight at her "What?"

"You have to get into America."
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