Wander through the Dead - Mel Afoa

She wanders through the dead, walking past the dead, decaying bodies.

She looks for her mother and father, both lost in the sea of the dead, while the buildings surrounding her fall to pieces. She wanders around, looking left and right, the clouds above her as grey and dark as colour can go. She hears the mighty thunderstorm roaring at another part of the town, and sees the light footsteps of the rain on every glass window. Cries around her wail in the thick air, the screams of mothers dancing around her as they mourn over their dead children's bodies.
Death is walking silently next to her, arms about to wrap around her body. She is wearing nothing but a ripped, wet, white dress, torn when mother nature came to abuse her. She walks barefoot, dirt and mud stuck on her feet like superglue. Her whole body is tattooed with bruises and cuts, her small body tattered with the disaster and it's memories.
"Mother...father", she calls, walking in a town that looks like a cemetery. People around her lie on the floor, hearts drained, souls empty. Kids are lifeless on the floor, with some house bricks crushing parts of their lifeless body parts. Elderly men and women cover the roads, dead, blood pouring in all directions. She quickly runs, passing a man who lies on the floor conscious, both legs nearly amputated. She runs past a woman who holds her dead half-born baby, the blood around them like a blanket.
She starts to get hysterical, looking up to the sky.
"My Lord", she says as death walks beside her, " My Lord, aid me. Why God, please, why us?", she whispers as she walks. She lifts up debris and wet leaves that are evident through the city. Buildings collapse, glass shatters and Houses are torn into pieces.
She walks past thousands of dead people, dead animals and dead souls. The air is thick with death and heartbreak, with hardly any air to breathe. She wanders through the dead, looking for signs of life, aiding those she wanders past.
As she wanders through the disasters, she trips over some debris and hard bricks. She finds herself flat on the ground, facing the dead bodies of her parents. She cries in shock, moving away as if electrified. She claws at her face, looking up to the sky and screaming. She goes back to the bodies, hugging them, her salty tears falling and joining the wet puddle around them. She screams as she tries to resuscitate her father. She gives up after an hour, tired, sore and drained from life. It is then she notices her parents holding hands, and a small vintage photo of them three together softly scrunched in her fathers hand. She screams, but no one can hear her silent scream in the midst of the broken town, when thousands of other people scream for the mourned, scream for the dead, scream for the lost.