The story you are about to read is from our November Collaboration. We, the Team Haze, has this tradition of monthly collaboration with all its writers.

In this entry, we are required to use All Saint's Day, Halloween, All Soul's Day, Feast of the Dead or whatever festivity related to these things as an element in the story. ("Undas" or "Hallowtide" might ring a bell) Haze must also be used as a keyword or element. It is also required to have at least one character in the story wearing a colored gas mask (preferably a brightly colored one). Maximum of 500 words, although I forgot the minimum. 

As usual, this piece is exactly 500 words.

Go see if I aced this one. This is not a contest entry, let me remind you. It's just some plain 'ol fun with some fellow writer friends.

*WARNING - Brutality and gore ahead. You've been warned. Enjoy! :)

--- CRIMSON ---

The moment I got bitten, I felt as if my stomach just made a 360-degree flip. As the leader of one of the remaining survivor groups, I know very well about the fate of those survivors who got infected.

It's been nine years already since the apocalypse came in a form no one has ever anticipated: a rain of crimson red lightning that fell from the sky which tore open all the cemeteries across the world, releasing a toxic haze that turns any living thing that inhales it into the undead. No one knows where the peculiar lightning came from or why it came in the first place.

Gas masks became an absolute necessity ever since the Crimson Calling, as much as we like to call it. Every year, the bravest and the strongest among the survivors venture across the cemeteries to seal the new sets of haze holes that pop out during the Three Days of Darkness, namely: October 31, November 1 and November 2.

During our mission this morning of the Second Day, an undead dog tried to bite my wife Cecile but out of instinct, I quickly pulled her aside making me the target of the canine's sharp teeth. Because of that, the mission was delayed and the rest of the day was used in finishing off all the undead present in the area.

My comrades are now restraining me against a tree with some metal chains to prevent me from attacking them once I fully turn into a monster which will happen anytime soon. We all wore gas masks but somehow, I can see the sorrow in their faces; the same grief you'll feel from a loss of someone special.

"We're doing this for everyone's sake, Jack. I hate to do this but...I have to." Cecile said as she forcefully removed my yellow gas mask, symbolizing my leadership. She took out a hammer and a nail and as I saw that, I knew what's going to happen next.

She pointed the nail at the edge of my thumb nail and started hammering it down hard until it got deep enough to let the nail fall off. I cried in agony as she repeated the process in all my fingers to ensure that I won't be able to infect anyone. The fact that my wife is doing all these made it a lot worse.

My blood drenched the ground but still, I knew it isn't over yet. She took out a pair of metal pliers and looked at it in a disgusted manner, knowing that it does the most horrible part. Cecile, with the help of our other comrades forcefully opened up my mouth wide. She started plucking off my teeth one by one with the pliers. I screamed in pain as blood gushed over my entire mouth. The sound of nerves and gums tearing apart is audible every time she twisted and pulled my teeth. My vision slowly started to blur.

Please just kill me.