When I first moved to New York City in 2019, it felt like the greatest decision of my life. Now, between living through the pandemic of 2020 and whatever the f*ck is happening outside my window today, I’m not so sure. 

I think that with the way last year went, we all assumed that the clock striking midnight on December 31st, 2020 would either be the worst thing or the best thing. There were plenty of pessimists that tried to predict the end of the world, and more than enough optimists who were sure things would start to look up. 

No one expected what followed, I don’t think. 

I mean, who would think that the first life we encountered on Mars would kill our entire crew of astronauts? If I went back in time and told 2000s me that someday that old saying “it’s raining cats and dogs” would be a reality (except “cats and dogs” gets replaced with “human bodies” and “raining” gets replaced with “torrent”), I think that I’d have brushed the whole thing off as a fever dream. 

But here we are, of course. I walked outside this morning to sirens and screaming and dead bodies falling from the sky. I turned around and walked inside immediately. 

The reporters were no help, being just as panicked as the rest of us. They called it “Jacob’s Ladder”, as if the dead were climbing back from the promised land to the earth to… I don’t know, save us or something? Seemed like it was the opposite of Jacob’s Ladder. Either way, I was intrigued. Despite the mayor’s pleas to stay inside in his morning speech, I got in my car and took my time navigating the streets, attempting to keep my eyes on both the sky and on the people that darted across the street without warning. 

They were falling so slowly. It reminded me of those stupid science experiments we used to do in elementary school where we’d drop oil into water. Drop by drop it would fall into the water and bob back to the surface. Sometimes we would put plastic beads in, because they were more dense than the oil but still less dense than water, and they’d float there; settling on the top of the water. 

I hadn’t even thought about where I was or where I was headed, but I had made my way out of the city and found myself in front of the state prison. 

Hundreds of bodies were piled across the property. Some were strangled, others had their throat slit open. I could even see some random body parts lying about the recreation area that I could only assume were from some poor, mutilated soul. 50 police cars at the very least were sitting in front of the prison, and hundreds of officers were running around, some on the phone, others taking frantic notes on a notepad. 

My heart began to pound in my chest, faster and faster against my ribcage. There’s no way that’s what it is. It’s clearly just a coincidence. 

I sped a little faster on the way home; not as afraid of hitting people as I was before. There were bodies every once in a while, some in the middle of the street and others directly on someone’s front porch. 

I couldn’t help but notice that the houses with bodies in front of them were darkened with the blinds closed, and the owners of the house were nowhere to be seen.

Today wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was going to go to work, come home and binge some stupid cooking show while I revelled in my success in life. And my innocence, I thought to myself. But no, here I was with a dead guy on my front lawn. There he was. Eyes rolled into the back of his head, bruises around his neck.

It’s going to be okay, I told myself. All that you have to do is hide it again. No one found it the first time, it can’t be that hard. Besides, everyone’s distracted and panicked. No big deal. How is it here? I got rid of it... I know I did.

I made sure that no one was watching me as I dragged the body toward my car, praying that I had left it unlocked. As I was shoving the man into my trunk, however, another body - a woman this time - landed on the pavement beside me. 

Then another,

And another,

And another…