The emotionless rectangle on the wall calls me, tempting me to take a look outside. As hard as I try to give in, to let my curiosity take over, I can’t. It is not the rectangle’s detached nature that scares me, but what lies on the other side.
The view outside the rectangle has never been kissed good luck by the luscious sun. Monstrous thunders clap it’s eerie hands in the sky as blood pours down onto the soil below like rain. Symphony of some alien folks’ scream float lifelessly in the dead wind. Vultures soar through the grey clouds, waiting in anticipation as their eyes blaze red for one of the alien folks to become their next meal. Dry carcasses cover the thirsty ground for miles all around them. Insufficient yet equally sufficient black pools of water cover the same ground as they swarm with maggots of the dead and unseeable weapons of destruction. The shade of sadness claws its way into the cloudy blue eyes of the bloodless, chilling souls waiting to be plucked from the field.
No, I do not want to look out the window. It is not the fear of seeing the horror but encountering guilt if I do take a step to make a difference.