End of Days


Key Twenty-One: Malice:

Random acts of violence.

“Student arrested for the murder of teacher and attempted murder of two students.”

“Man arrested for murder of family.”

“Woman arrested for the murder of her husband.”

I live for this. Violence is like a drug to me. Here I stand with my hands up in the air. I can feel the blood running through the land. Oh yes! Give me more of it! Ah! I threw back my head and moaned. My laughter rang through the sky. Yes! Keeping fighting and killing each other! Feed me! I desire blood!

I am aware that I am not alone.

I looked over my shoulder. She looked at me with a frown on her face.

“What are you doing?” she asked. I couldn’t help but grin.

“Can’t you feel it?” I asked. “Our time is coming!” She gave me an odd look. I leapt up in front of her.

“Come on! This is our time! Revel in it with me!” I said. She didn’t say a word. She pushed me off and turned back into her room. Oh well. Some people just don’t appreciate it. Fine by me.

The world will look beautiful in red. Red like my eyes. I can’t help but to look down again.

She bit down on her thumb. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Knives. So many knives. No! She can’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t give in. Don’t give in!

Her bedroom door opened. She turned her head.

“Lily? What are you still doing here? I thought you would be in school by now. Get up. It’s a beautiful day outside.”

She stared up at her mother. She doesn’t respond.

“Honestly.” Her mother walked over and opened the blinds. She turned her head. That timebomb keeps ticking in her head. How long before blowing up?

One thing they all have in common is they are not talking. Why are they doing this? No answer. No history of violence. No mental illness. No stress. No enemies. Just normal people who snapped and killed people one day. They seemed so calm afterwards. Calm and silent.

The police can’t figure it out. Is this a virus? Have they gone crazy? Behavioral experts can’t figure it out. For now, the people stay in their cells awaiting trial. This could be a problem. The cells could become overcrowded. They’ll run out of space soon. This had to be stopped. But how? This is where they are stuck. Does anyone have any ideas?

Another typical day at school. She tries not to make eye contact. She already sweating and panting. How could she feel so cold in late summer? She thinks she’s going to throw up.


She jerked her head around. Just two friends talking to each other in the hall. Still, she couldn’t relax. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t look at anyone. Just look at the floor. Already, she wanted to go home.

The murders keep making headlines. There hasn’t been a moment’s rest since last December. Everyone is uneasy. Who is going to snap next?

It’s turned into a game for some. They are taking bets. There is a board of murder. The rules are the same as any bet. Only the betters have no face or name. Where is the money coming from? That doesn’t really matter. Every day is filled with excitement. Each bet comes with a number and color. The higher the number, the more money received. The color doubles the price. Darker colors lend more money. Bets are taken every Sunday. The results are announced on Saturday. They don’t ever meet up. Most of it is done on the deep web. No one really knows who started this game. But they can’t stop. The rush is just that addictive.

In fact, there is a new bet now. It’s at her own school.

At 2:35 p.m., there was another murder at her school. It took place out of nowhere in the hallway. Somebody screamed. Everyone turned around. A boy with a clean-cut hair held his neck. He barely said a word. His attacker stood over him with no emotion on their face. More stabs landed. The students tried to intervene. The stabbing went wildly. The victim gasped as the blade disappeared into his body. He had his hands up to defend himself.

Teachers ran into the hall to break up the carnage. They pulled away the assailant. The students and teachers were shocked.


This didn’t make any sense. He was the quiet kid in the room. He had average grades. He had his small group of friends. His home life was just average for a single parent home. They hauled him away with the knife in his hand. He didn’t make a sound. There was nothing on his face. They called the police of course. Even then he didn’t resist arrest. They just dragged him to the car. Everyone watched as the police pulled away.

The whole time, she watched with shook. That could’ve been her. It would be easy to pretend that nothing happened. But the stabbing wouldn’t leave her head. That kid was taken to the hospital. Was he going to make it? She didn’t know. She shook her head and walked out of the school building.

This wouldn’t be the last of the random acts of violence.

Random acts of violence.

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