“It was about 50 years ago. At least, I think. I’m sure some fucker out there is keeping a record, but that fucker sure isn’t me.
Anyways, about 50 years ago, the dark patches started popping up. People called it things, like “meteorological anomalies” or “solar apertures” or some shit. Later, they started calling it “judgment” or the “end of days”, but that was later. First there were only a couple, then more. They started growing. Then people realized that the darkness could hurt them. That’s when people started freaking out.
It’s something in the darkness. Or some things. Or fuck, maybe just the darkness itself. Whatever. It fucks with you, messes with your head, takes you away and does horrible things to you. Sometimes you just die (lucky fuck). Sometimes it makes you do thing, hurt those you love or take away the things that make you human. Sometimes you get strung up, organs hanging out your ears and still beating heart pumping blood to your screaming eyes and tongue-less mouth.
People fell into chaos. The military was sent in, but they weren’t ready. How could they be? Even if they were, it probably wouldn’t have really mattered. The darkness kept spreading, gobbling up more and more of the world. Soon the days started to get shorter and the sun started to fade. People panicked – fucking and stabbing and killing each other just to get their hands on a flashlight or a lantern. They didn’t even think about food – yet. It wasn’t long before telephones and the Internet stopped working, and then people realized just how fucked we were.
So now we live by candlelight, afraid to venture beyond the dying campfires and the draining flashlight batteries that keep the darkness (and what’s in it) at bay. But that’s the fucked up part – the darkness isn’t the most dangerous thing.
No, the real danger lies with your fellows; that weird skinny fuck who keeps biting his nails till they bleed; that creep ass priest who keeps offering confession for sexual favors; that gang down the road that makes you pay taxes for your charcoal and batteries; that big, angry looking dude who keeps staring at you whenever you clean out your rifle – these are the fuckers you need to worry about.
But I mean, we’re alive at least. That’s something right? Hope for a better future and all that shit. Wait, hold on a sec – this guy’s trying to lift my canned peaches – I gotta go beat this fucker’s ass real quick…"