Wind howled in Alastair’s ear,  ripped at his clothes, and bit his unclad flesh. Painful darts of horizontal, wind-driven rain stabbed his uncovered skin and drenched his curly hair. The building suddenly loomed before him in the dark, reaching for the sky like a recently sprouted plant. It seemed to go forever, prevailing all odds to reach something other than Earth. Alastair knew he was up there somewhere, up amongst the clouds on the roof, he always went there to think. Alastair pulled his hood tightly on his head so that the edge hung over his face, he continued onwards, penetrating the storm, desperate to reach the building.

Inside the building offered protection from the voracious storms but it rendered no light. Alastair walked around blindly, inside the building was no different to the outside except the wind and rain didn’t attack him like wolves. In his blind attempt to find the stairs, he tripped over several times but persevered. Any pain he felt now would be nothing in comparison to the pain he’d feel if he didn’t get to Garth in time.

The stairs seemed to spiral on for centuries, Alastair was ravaged by fatigue and his calves screamed in pain but he proceeded to run on. He felt no pain, he felt nothing but desperation and a fragment of fear which sliced through his heart. Suddenly the stairs seemed to fall away and Alastair collapsed in a heap on the ground, muscles screaming, chest heaving, rain and wind pouncing on him once more. Alastair scrambled to his feet as the black fabric of the sky was ripped by a scar of lightning. A silhouette of a small, skinny figure was portrayed, standing on the edge of the building as peaceful as it had ever been.

“Garth!” Alastair yelled, but his voice was only a whisper under his panting breath and it was snatched away by the storm. Alastair ran forward, his mind in panic mode, he felt like he was running on a treadmill and wasn’t going anywhere. “Garth! Stop!” He screamed, reaching out for his brother who seemed to suddenly lose all control of his body. Alastair knew that wasn’t the case though, and as his brother fell to his death he screamed in anguish.

Everything seemed to vanish from his mind, nothing mattered, life didn’t matter, nothing but his brother mattered. Screams and sobs escaped Alastair’s lips, his sounds of despair were ripped from his body and stolen by the winds. He was carried away by hurt, pains of poignancy gripped him and dragged him into a loss of mind. The apocalyptic world didn’t care for him, didn’t notice his adversity, it cared for nothing but to heal itself.

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