Creative Writing: Distorted Perception Of Pain

My world explodes into a distorted perception of agony and chaos. Pain envelopes my existence. Heart beating rapidly. I’m hyperventilating. The air smells of smoke and burning flesh. Everything feels numb. My forehead is bleeding, blood pouring down my face, my nose and over my eyes, filtering my vision red. Despite the ringing in my ears, I can hear screams and gunfire. A shape appears right above me. It’s Sydney, face splashed with dirt, grass, and blood, eyes wide in terror, frantically shouting at me. My brain doesn’t register her words. I’m too dazed, the ringing in my ears not yet receded. She’s pulling at my arm, and I comply, rising, as the dust and smoke that swirled around us begins to clear. The sight is horrible. Parents scream for their children, who sit up or stand, weeping in pain and fear. Corpses and scattered limbs litter the ground. Grief-stricken loved ones who shout in anguish for their loss and suffering accompany them. How could this happen? I witness people in black bulletproof armor, shooting their weapons at figures ascending from four to five-foot craters; shouting commands at each other and flanking their targets. Every aspect of my being is screaming to turn and run away, but I

All seemingly male, they tower at varying heights of between six to eight feet, and despite the apparent lack of flesh, their bodies are broad and toned with muscle. Their faces are all the exact same: lacking a nose, mouth, facial hair, and resemble that of a bald mid-20s to early 30s man with cold, dark red eyes that contain nothing but see everything. The bullets that achieve contact with them only ricochet off their bodies like pebbles on a lake. To my right, I feel an unnatural presence forming into existence. I turn to see a young woman cradling her lifeless son’s head, shaking him, begging him to wake up. He looks around Zack’s