The church began to rot with bark piercing through the thick cobblestone, soon reaching the parlor with an old, dusty bible which hasn't been touched in years. The bell which rested on the top was a rusted piece of metal, no longer serving any purpose but to decompose into nothingness. The wooden floor boards rotted with the nails ripping in half by the rust from the humidity. Bugs filled the floor, eating away the last remnants of what was once holy. Directly across from the church was a little town that looked no different from the creeping death that arose around the church. There were no lights, no talking, and no water that used to flow in the river long ago. The hot blazed through the town like fire, with the wood moving side to side by the heat waves with old rain water dripping down, evaporating. Throughout the mountains, just outside the little town, was a large beach with graves covering from end to end. The waves crashed against the damp, mucky sand with headstones being engulfed by the lonely water that had never been filled with life in ages. It was barely evening and the sky turned into a blood red, with black ravens covering the dead park, crowing at the sun while eating a suffering worm that had already accepted its death from the sun. While the raven flew out into nowhere, sounds of a moving chair grew louder onto the rotten floor with only one man. He wasn't normal, both physically and mentally. His hair was scruffy brown that began falling out, with the back of his head already beginning to rot with maggots chewing on his dead tissue. Blood spots covered his face with disease marks killing his skin, he had one eye to the other direction looking at the ocean, while the other looked at the raven flying away. In his mouth was a pipe, smoking the final remnants of meth he could find in this hell. The more he sat there, the more the sun kept getting hotter and hotter, burning away more flesh with blood boiling. The atmosphere also began to change, with the air becoming more blood that a clean humidity that used to fill the place. The man never had a name, he never actually lived a full life.
Everyone in this town died from a disease which no one knew, they all continued to suffer while the pastor tried to give everyone blessings. He told everyone that Christ was going to save everyone from this, and this town was going to be saved; unfortunately for him, everyone began to question the belief that Christ won't save them, and everyone will die but at least get to heaven, but still die a horrible death. It got to a point where he told everyone that this was everyone's fault, that they made him angry and brought him into this for no reason. Every night while the rashes grew on his face and the bugs swarmed around his rotten flesh, he would beg for the lord to stop this since he was the one who didn't cause this, the people of the town did. He even asked at one point that everyone could suffer in hell, but he was a man of Christ and he will always be one. It wasn't long though that he died, the first one to die at that. Everyone grabbed sticks and dug through the sand – which was easier – and dumped his rotting corpse while the waves tried engulfing him, but failed. They placed a giant stone on his grave and carved a number one as the first person to die. Soon more and more bodies grew, turning the bank into the graves of the unfortunate dead. The man was only shortly born from his mothers womb when she died, dying by blood with the infestation of bugs going into her after birth, she never stopped screaming of pain. He didn't know anything, he was the only one alive. He smoked everything he could find, to keep his mind busy from the everlasting horror that stuck with him through his life. He wasn't that old, but he felt like he lived the longest life. When he continued to smoke more meth, while the sky turned more red with the sun burning hot, he began feeling happy.
After he got done, he would go all around the town and dig holes with a thick stick, going deep into the soil with sweat dripping down his bloody head. He didn't know what he was doing, he never knew. He would go from house to house and trash the remaining furniture, while it lingered with rotten flesh and bugs covering everything. But he never targeted the church, something made him refuse to step inside the church. He wasn't scared, but it felt like he was being protected by it. Something told him he probably could go in three if he wasn't planning on destroying the place, but he was too dark to even think straight! At the end of the day, he would fall asleep on the floor while his skin burned. But today was different, this was the last of his meth, he had nothing more. He did his usual, but once he got done and tried looking for more, none would turn up. Once he realized he couldn't run from the pain, it all came at him. He ran towards the beach, bashing his arms on trees and breaking off his limbs from horror. Ravens flew by him, cawing at his idiocy, but he couldn't stop inflicting the pain. He tripped down on a vine, breaking his foot with a loud snap, falling to the shore. He couldn't get up to see the full view of the beach, but he could see water and graves. He began to cry, not knowing what was falling from his face. Tears didn't fall, just rotting blood. Behind him, ravens formed around each other, making an old woman with long, tangled hair. She looked almost eighty, with rotting teeth. She laughed at him, but splashed water on him as a form of comfort. "Poor child." She began, "The beach leads nowhere, death is only here, and death is the only place to be." She pointed at the ocean, the blazing sun that began to sink. "Why must a suffering child live through a world of pain, a world where destiny is ought to kill you? Why must people die for the sake of living?" She grabbed his face, making him look deep in her eyes. "Live peacefully, not from earth but to heaven." The ravens scattered by, flying towards the blood splattered sky. He couldn't move, his limbs were broken. He cried out his rotten blood, while the ocean engulfed him, making him the only person without a headstone.