As I lie in the hospital bed surrounded by other patients who are also infected, I can't help thinking to myself, I should have listened to him. I can recall my father telling me just seconds before I touched the peanut butter that it would be poisonous. But at that time, little did I know that it had the world's most dangerous virus in it.

All crates of peanut butter had been thrown into the ocean, hopefully never to be seen again. The only way to battle this terrifying peanut butter disease was to go against it head to head with jelly. Sadly, because so many people were infected, our country's jelly supply had run out much too quickly.

The television in front of me turned on. A reporter began to speak, "News reports have shown that the only way to cure this mysterious peanut butter virus is to counter-act it with jelly! Many countries have been generously donating tons of jelly to us, but nothing is enough. Doctors and scientists truly believe that this peanut butter epidemic is completely unstoppable! We have our first death!"

There are people who go through life, go through everyday motions, passing through every day like it is nothing. There are people who are waiting for the end to come, just waiting for their life to be over.

The most unknown thing is figuring out your purpose, your goal, in life. Why were you placed on Earth? There has to be a reason.

People spend eternity trying to figure out why and how they were given life. But even they have decided a goal, something to work towards in their limited amount of time alive. So many people are unaware of their passion and their purpose in life. It may be the most unknown thing ever.

Aside from being grateful for the people around me who envelop my life with joy and happiness, and all the other living things like my fish, I am grateful for the Prose. It has allowed me to share so much of my writing with others and encouraged me to keep exploring the vast world of literature.

Thank you so much Prose !!

I wake up one morning to the vacant and hollow echoes of the house. It all just happened overnight. Something just doesn’t feel correct. I get up and walk to the doorway and peer inside every single room in the house. No one is there. My mother, my father, my aunt, my grandmother. Everyone is gone.

My heart beats rapidly as I look out the window and find that many people are freaking out in the cold winter’s snow. They are kneeling and running, screeching and screaming, crying in distress.

Suddenly, memories come back to me like a wave. My mother telling me to go to church. My father telling me about the Bible’s prophecy. I never believed any of that. But now I do. And it is too late. I open the window to hear the screeching voices outside. I can barely make out what they are saying, but one woman is crying out, “It’s the rapture, it’s the rapture!”

I tear through the house, trying to look for my mother’s ivory Bible. I find it, inside her desk drawer. I read the revelations, and learn about all the end times. The Great Tribulation is coming. There will be seven years. Seven years before the entire population goes to Hell. I read about the Beast, the seas and rivers of blood. Three and a half years will be pleasant, people following the fearless leader. But it soon will turn to darkness, and in the last three and a half years, over two thirds of the population will die.

It’s going to be a tough seven years, slowly counting down to our fate.

I don't know what happened,

I just woke up like this.

I was unsure who I was,

Had forgotten who I would be.

I felt like a woman,

but looked like a man.

It was not until my mother came,

And told me I was not the same.

"Get off the swing,

It's mine."

She gets off unwillingly,

But I know she is scared of me.

Linger around,

I think

and I'll punch you

Fourth graders are scared of sixth graders,

Third graders are scared of fifth graders,

Second graders are scared of fourth graders,

First graders are scared of third graders.

and third graders are me.

The first grader actually stays,

As if she might be waiting for something.

I shove her aside

"Get away from me,

You're trash."

She half waddles,

Half trips her way,

As far from me as she can.

But the triumph of having that swing to myself,

Only generates one feeling

Guilt... and shame

Tears,

They stream down my cheeks.

They wet my shirt and swallow my bravery.

Tears.

"Please," I plea.

"Please don't die..."

He breathes one sigh,

His chest heaves once.

Then everything is quiet.

His breathing slows,

He stops moving.

He is dead.

"You can run from pirates," it said to me, the blood and spit churning in it's mouth. It's tongue lolled around, slipping between teeth and licking those razor sharp fangs. It continued, "You can run from bears, lions, and beasts." It paused, staring at me with rigid frozen eyes that never blinked. I held onto a nearby lamppost to steady myself. Putting both arms against the garbage can and leaning closer, the spirit laughed, "Run from anything you want. But you can't run from me." Its voice dropped to a whisper, and thick blood began dripping from the corners of its mouth. I held my breath for whatever would come next. "I've been hot on your trail, behind every tree you've seen. I follow you wherever you go, and you see me when you least expect it." I took a few steps back, with hopes to get away from this possessed creature. But it took steps forward, and began to pursue me. "Today is the day!" it cackled. "You can never run from me!" and with that, it began to chase me, gliding along the stained alleyway. "Run!" It shrieked, "Run all you want. No messiah or king or godmother is coming to save you!" It's scream pierced through the cold air of the night.

I ran, fast as I could. I couldn't feel my legs, and my beating heart drowned out all other sounds except the shriveling screeches of the spirit, gaining on me by the second. A quick glance behind me told me I was doomed. It aroused from behind, rising countless feet above me, and made the dive. I fled, the tips of my toes now barely touching the ground, wind gushing against me. But it was too late. Unpredictably, I felt sucked in, the power of the spirit undefeatable. It enclosed around me, I felt a sharp stab of pain beside my collarbone, and fell unconscious.

My eyes slowly blinked open. Where was I? Faint memories of the spirit had left me slightly dazed but terribly shaken. Had it all been a dream? As relief washed over me, the memories began to fade, and my sight adjusted to the lighting, I caught a shadow looming over me. Rolling onto my back to take a look, the spirit startled me with its face to face appearance. It's blood spattered white robe hung in shreds and it leaned over to me. My mind froze, and my mouth was paralyzed. Whatever I was about to say was quickly thrown out the window as it began to speak. "I told you, nobody can ever run from me." Blood oozed between its jagged teeth and dripped onto my shirt. I could feel as the warm liquid soaked through and touched my skin. "I got you. To think I wouldn't be able to? Oh, that is so stupid of you. Those bite marks..." It nodded to my collarbone, and I lifted a weak hand to touch the puncture marks. "You will not last very long." My hand came out bloody. Bloody with my blood.

"It's bleeding now but it appears you have gotten used to it. You don't seem to be feeling any pain."

I regained some of my senses, enough to ask, "What are you, anyway?" Though the question came out croaky, and not as strong as I had estimated, it felt comforting to hear my own voice. It leaned closer, so close I could smell the rotting blood of the once alive humans inside of it, and the stench of decaying flesh. The spirit licked its lips as blood leaked from its mouth. My heart beat faster and faster as the tension in the air grew and grew. "So happens I have not yet chose the one for breakfast yet." the spirit said. It was now almost lying on me, floating just inches parallel to my body. "This will be a messy job," it said, "but I think you can stand it." and, without warning, it dove right into my living body.

The rain drenched me, soaking my jeans that now felt like wet sponges pressing against my legs. It slipped past my yellow raincoat and slapped my plastic boots, bouncing up violently and splashing my face. Not long after, I appeared as if I had just gotten out of a swimming pool, and from head to toe water was steadily dripping. Puddles were taking form in potholes that had been pounded out by the buckets of pouring rain. Not a single ray of the bright sunshine could be seen, and the tears that rolled out from my blue eyes flooded my already bathed figure. I could only see thunder and clouds beyond the slits of trees. All of a sudden, I could abruptly no longer feel my soul, only the rain that kept pouring on and on.