Welcome to Gaia! ::

Note: ok, so I wrote this really quickly, then typed it up in the middle of the night while I was half asleep. Expect it to be flawed and incoherent. Then tell me later so I can fix it. Possibly basing my NaNoWriMo off of this premise

It had been five years since the decline, man fading into the grey and gritty background while the rest of the world lit up with red and yellow flames. Our time had gone, pissed and piddled away like so many hours before a big test. Needless to say we all failed. We lost. Game over. But the saddest part was that it didn't happen like in the movies. We had all expected it to be something grand, something epic. Our cinematic culture trained us to expect the best. We wanted to end with a bang. Instead life just slowly vanished, quiet like a fall breeze. If you hadn't been looking, you would have missed it; and many people did.

Now our society laid in ruin, toppled over by war and famine, grief and hate. Few survived the depression that invaded the minds of the masses, a side affect of the fall. It's been hypothesized that those who survived were only able to because they were already crazy and thus immune, but then again, the guy who said it was a registered psychopath. Maybe we are all crazy, our previous bouts of mental illness cancelling out the terror of decay. Maybe it's why so many hear voices that aren't there, claim that monsters hide in the dark.

I saw them. Was I crazy too? Was it all just in my head? The bruises would say otherwise, but the mind is a powerful thing, strong enough to cause the body pain. Was I the one killing myself? Hunting myself down dark streets screaming for blood? I hope so. It would be better that way, I think. At least then I could tell myself that I was in control of my destiny.

Or maybe it is real. Maybe the shadows do crawl with frightening fiends, the lights flickering to reveal only glimpses of a new terror. Maybe something else lives here now. Maybe we are not on top anymore. Perhaps now we are the cattle, waiting for our slaughter, bawling for our mothers as we are weaned off of our earthly pleasures. I never liked cows. They smell and they're fat. They just stare at you with soulless eyes. Eyes like mine. I guess I am the cow. I am the sacrifice to the gods of old to end this new hell. My death will feed them, these new terrors, and it will either help or hinder the last of man's cause. Either way, no one will care. My death won't mean anything. Just another statistic. Blessed be.

Thank you. I was worried it would be terrible since I was half asleep and hadn't reread it.
I like insanity premises, not knowing if something is real or just in one's mind.