Alptraum

Sleep provides escape. When we sleep we end our day and go into a world of dreams and nightmares. Even though nightmares bring terrors to life, we sometimes prefer them to the world we are forced to encounter. People never expect their sleep to be invaded or interrupted. Thing is, when it does happen, it is usually from some outside source. When this happens people become irritable. It never happens en mass and it never results in death. Whenever this happens, the people around them hear pained screams in the middle of the night. They are horrible, guttural screams. Once the screaming starts and the blood begins to flow there is nothing we can do to save them. There is no warning. Just screams then death. Government officials go to the houses as soon as they can to clean up the mess and to console the ones traumatized by what happened. I've taken up the yoke of telling the families what happened, to our knowledge at least. I tell them we haven't pinpointed what exactly causes this, but what we do know is that it's not human. The people I tell have different reactions. Some people just sob, begging for some explanation. Others scream, demanding an explanation. Others react violently. I've received a couple black eyes and broken noses because of this. Most people scream how they came to this planet for freedom and peace, yet they have been met by terror. I've become desensitized to it all. When I firsts began this, the contoured faces and thick scent of blood made me sick. It made me think of how much pain they must have gone through before their death. Now, everything is just...normal. It still hurts to see how these families are torn apart by this thing. I honestly wish there was more I could do. I can't save anyone. I can't track whatever the he'll this is. I can't find a way to combat it. All I can do is talk. Offer counselling. Offer a place to cry. Most of the time they take me up on my offer. They let their feelings out and grieve. Others curse me and the government and proceed to grieve on their own. The things I've become accustomed to have started haunting my dreams. The contorted faces of the dead. The black faces of the grieving. Seas of blood. I wake up in a cold sweat usually. Around this time I usually get a call of another victim. I hurriedly get ready and head out. I head to wherever I'm needed and offer counseling. This has become my daily routine. Coffee has become my friend, keeping me awake during these long days. The days have begun to blend together. No new developments. My voice sounds like a broken record as I recite the same generic message to the families. The future seems bleak. So many dead, so many that will possibly die. We desperately need hope, but it seems we left it all back on Earth. If you read this...

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