Last winter, when so many Living joined the Dead and our prey became scarce, I watched some of my friends become full-dead. The transition was undramatic. They just slowed down, then stopped, and after a while I realised they were corpses. It disquieted me at first, but it’s against etiquette to notice when one of us dies. I distracted myself with some groaning.

It's not like I'm such a shiny happy person either, you know? I'm a wreck too, I'm just... still alive.

What happened to the world was gradual. I've forgotten what it actually was, but I have faint, fetal memories of what it was like. A smoldering dread that never really caught fire till there wasn't much left to burn. Each sequential step surprised us. Then one day we woke up, and everything was gone.

Deep under our feet the Earth holds its molten breath, while the bones of countless generations watch us and wait.

I want a new past,new memories, a new first handshake with love. I want to start over in every possible way.

One mistake, one brief lapse of my new found judgement-that's all it took to unravel everything. What a massive responsibility, being a moral creature.

It was fun, but it's over now. This is how things go.