They are everywhere now. Gigantic freezers where families go in, but never come out. They call it temporary housing for the recently deceased. They are to remain there until they can be properly buried. Identification not necessary. But where can they go? Cannot be the graveyards, we still dance in them without missing a step. Cannot be the flames, the scent of burning flesh has yet to touch the air. The streets remain as clear as they are silent.
Silence. I never thought it would be possible. Not a car or plane to cross, aside from the sirens. Heard from miles away as the plague doctors come to take another. I can only imagine that the underworld is overfilled. I can also imagine the overjoys of reunion as the dearly beloved see their past unfold.
Everyday on the box leaders command the masses to stay inside. To stay safe. For me, safety is outside. Where mother does not have to protect me from father. Where running away is going to school and working shifts long enough for him to pass out from his own habits. Last night I escaped to the streets to clear my mind. Off to the pier where a boat could be seen amongst the darkness. Off to Hart is where it must go. Mother used to speak of the ghosts that haunt there, souls that could never pass on. Makes you wonder how many new ones they've acquired. One of them is my grandmother, I know that much.
I watched as they loaded the boat for the last time tonight. Lost count of how many passengers there were. I waved goodbye before continuing my walk. No siren nor car. I know I should not want to be out in these times but it's far safer than inside.
