THE DEAD GAME

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

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