"Whatcha starting at?" I turned to see Sam casually standing on the white beach sand with the wind in his hair and the sun deepening his blue eyes. "Sam, what, what's going on?" He continued to smile while he turned toward the water, and so did I as the ocean became red with thick clumps of clotting tissue washing up on shore, staining the white sand that well known orangey red bloody stain. But it was too red. It seemed like paint it was so red and not at all the blood that she was familiar with when she ever cut herself.

"You see all that blood. That blood was shed by the dead. Everyone's the same, Rose, we all are made from proteins. Blood is blood after all." He scoffed once and turned to walk up the sandy hill to the grassy top.

"No, wait." I started after him stumbling on the inconsistency of the sand's slushy surface. "No, that's not true. What about our glycoproteins?"

"Our what?" Sam's eyes peaked over his shoulder in a glaring glance of confusion down from the top of the hill.

"You know, different blood types. You can't give type A blood to type B because of their different glycoproteins. Their immune system will see it as a foreign pathogen and mount an immune response to the implant." Sam fully turned around facing me as he got to the top.

"Who asked?" He slurred in a long monotonous tone of sarcasm and pushed me down the hill. I stumbled backwards landing on my back in the hot scalding sand. I grunted as I tried to get up, yelling at Sam:

"You won't get away with murder so easily, Sam! Others will always find reasons to believe they are different when we all are in fact the same!"

I relaxed letting my head rest on the white sandy beach, staring up at the light blue sky. It had streaks of white clouds as if it was Sam's aging hair, but they were up so high, they looked like someone painted the blue canvas with a soft brush of white paint. Then, as my eyes rolled in the blue, it faded sooner rather than later into the dreary red.

From the Red Sea came crawling the heads and hands of bloody bodies and the ripped, ripe red muscles of the inside out skin. Their veins popped out of their slimy, pinkish, bloodied muscles and wrapped around the whites of their eyes.

What was predominantly accessible was their white, bulging eyes and their white teeth that didn't have lips to cover their fake morbid smiles, but those smiles. Those damn smiles seemed so sinister that even death himself sneered along with them. Their hair was wetted by the red blood, clumps of red slickly snot and clumps of blood that matted their wild wet hair. Some mobile bodies' bones showed through the red meat with a false white stained by the red blood of the sea's murderers.

As I admired their startling gore, they slowly cornered me against the cliff walls, moaning and groaning with their cracked voices and bubbling bubbles from their foaming mouth of blood and spit. Their feet dragged across the sand, picking up grains that stuck to their stumped feet and calf's, and their arms reached out with dangling broken hands at the wrist while their bones stuck out at ends fragmented, but their clothes—ripped from where the bones jutted through. They loomed over me; their shadows dripping blood on the white pure sand, leaving a trail of dark brown dots. Out of nowhere, one reached out and grabbed my arm forcefully. Their wet hand was disgustingly warm and slick with snot and blood.

"Hey!" I jumped. I started to shake. I started to cry. I started to yell. I kicked and screamed, pushing through the slippery beings who hissed and spat at me.

"Help! Help! Somebody help me!"

I was completely livid with adrenaline pumping in my veins. Their sharp bones dug into my skin ripping it to shreds, and my blood ran down in wobbly jagged streaks down my bruised arms and legs. Then, a rough elbow caught my eye, cutting through the thick hard gel like cornea and slicing the brown iris letting the lense and other fluids slip through the slot with ease.

"AHH! DAMMIT! AHH!"

I never so vehemently yelled from the pit of my throat with such agony before until now when my right eye crumpled in on itself. I fell apart bending in, putting as much pressure on my empty eye socket as I could. The bloody zombies surprisingly didn't hover but continued up the beach and climbed up the cliff side like spiders. They got down on their arms and legs which splayed across the sand as their invisible abdomens stuck out against their mashed torsos. I stayed there pressing my eye on my knee until I laid back with my palm pressed against the bone of my cheek and forehead, covering the hole. My left and only eye looked up at the blurry blue sky now, and I could have sworn I saw two, sea blue eyes curiously looking down. . .but oh the gouging pain that stung and throbbed at the back of my head, and the stinging burning feel of my bloody slitted skin resting on the hot sand, and oh, my Lord, the aching feeling of broken bones that stabbed the side of my chest, and the pressing churning tightness of my abdomen.

How could this happen? Why did this happen? Who does Sam think he is to let little ol' me be drowned by my own blood? The sea level began rising, and the warm disgusting thick liquid licked at my feet. Then, my stomach. Then, my arms, and soon, I was drowning in the thick dark mucus as it filled my lungs. I gasped for air but was only forced more of the damming liquid down my throat. It was heavy, and it weighed me down to the point of immobility.

My arms and legs floundered about.

In the moment, fear washed over me like the blood, and I considered my death. They say your life flashes before you die, but that's a lie. The moment I died was the same moment I lost consciousness. But before then, my mind was tricked into thinking I had visited hell, and stuck in hell for the rest of my life. I believed that after I lost consciousness, or believed to have lost it, I was then stuck in purgatory hell, bouncing back and forth between the fires and the demons that ripped my body further into shreds and the red beach. I saw the demons eating live souls. I saw the rugged, ripped survivors painfully call for mother Mary and Jesus and many more holistic beings than ever imagined for a chance to escape. Their blood cut feeling screams and moans for life filled my head to the point of it bursting. I saw myself in those bodies, screaming for the surface, for I was drowning in their disgustingly evil and unholy blood. They choked me of my life and blood just so those vampirish suckers could get a high from the act—their boney structures and dark possessed eyes—their bloody bodies and ripped hearts—a hole in every one of their shivering forms that lacked souls...souls...they moaned...we crave souls...but for some reason, I lacked everything they wished to have—and for that, they acted upon my doomed body, everyone else seemed to watch.

Just
simply
watch.

But it wasn't the pain that the demons inflicted on me that tore my brain to pieces, it was the fact that no one tried to stop the death of my soul. No one, not even Jesus or God Himself. I was truly alone to face those who casted their harmful judgment on others including myself and those who caused physical and emotional trauma for the eternity to come.

I knew, for that long forever eternity I witnessed, I was never—ever—going to leave.