My Glass Tomb

How I long for those nights, so quiet, so peaceful. Even those few sweet days with the quiet hum of the lights. I always enjoy seeing that one man with his big cart. He comes by at least once a day, I want to say hello or even shake his hand. But all this calm will be for nothing, for this is the day of madness and pain.

I can see them. They start emerging slowly in groups of three and four with the occasional single walker. With their tired eyes and limping bodies, they gather in packs. As time ticks by they multiply, from small patches to one large hoard. Cries, screams, and laughter, the shrill laughter that echoes in the halls won't stop. If I remain still maybe they won't see me, maybe they'll let me be.

There is one who locks eyes with me, I can feel it. He raises his hands with that maddening smile and with one scream it lunges. Why now, why? They all see me now. Banging on the glass, screaming and laughing. Hands, so many hands beating and slamming, shaking the foundation. Please don't break, don't let them get me.

In the worst of the kaos, salvation can be heard in the air. That bell, like a song from the heavens, rings all over the thunderous drumming. Praise the bell with all my heart. I can breath a sigh as all those monsters run off to those doors. The silence washes over again as if nothing happened.

There he is again, the man with that cart. Please sir, please take me away from here. There must be a place for me. You know I won't bother you, why don't you save me? I can't handle this anymore! Every week it's the same thing. The darkness, the lights, the hoards and the madness. How can anyone live like this. If I could move I would run far away from this madhouse of suffering. But trophies can't run.