DISCONTINUED: Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons: The Apocalypse

Just Mother and I, Now.

I OWN NOTHING. STILLLLL.

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"As the seasons change, remember how I used to be."

"Mom?" I ask, shuffling through the drawers. "Hey, mom-" I turn around to see her standing in her bathrobe, tears swiping her face.

She was shaking. "Mom..." She leaps in to hug me. "Jack, Oh, Jack, I'm sorry I haven't been there, I just-" I felt her sobs soaking into my shirt. She was holding me awfully tight, she wasn't much smaller than me, but at the moment, she looked really little. She looked like a little girl, and I was the father. I gulped and let her wipe her face on my shirt. I hushed her and stroked her brown oily hair.

"It'll be okay, mom. I promise." She cried even more. "We're gonna be fine."

She clutched tighter to me, and I held her for a second. What was I doing? Oh yeah, well I thought those batteries could wait.

For the next few hours of that day she slept on the sofa, clutching the television remote, putting it on high for any updates. I sat in front of the screen, staring at the images, waiting for the next report. I'd never really been in the same room with my mom for a while. I couldn't help but glance back at her, slumped on the couch.

"Welcome to Burgess News, the news you can depend on."

I heard as I snapped back to the T.v.

"Welcome to Burgess News, Where we have found a live footage of the outbreak, which has spread across Scotland and numerous parts of Ireland."

I flinched. They showed this lab, with a patient inside. He stood in a small empty room, banging his head on a glass window. His eyes were bloody red, and his clothes were stained with sweat, blood and dirt. He was a hospital patient, his gown ripped at the sides.

It was disgusting. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was on drugs, or just dead. His skin was so unnaturally pale it had faded grey, and he looked like he was trying to scratch his face off.

"Luckily, the Queen, princess, and princes were able to escape in time."

I wasn't even listening to the reporter. I was staring at the gruesome imagery, which made me want to throw up to say the least, but intrieged me. Maybe it was because they looked dead. They looked passed sickness, to me. They looked, gone.

"Sadly, Scotland remains to be the Land of the dead, where those who stayed were infected and left for dead.

Dead?

That was it. Maybe they were taking this too lightly. Far too lightly, even though every channel was making reports about it, an entire country was wiped out. And those who've left in time can never go home.

The Land of the dead.

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"Rapunzel, would you sing for me dear?" she stroked my hair, letting the strands fall between her boney fingers.

"Mom, will you tell me what's happening?" I ask. "About what they say on the news?" Mother only ever let me watch the news. And Lately, the reports were far more drastic.

"What do you mean, dear?" She asked, grabbing a brush and grazing it through seperate strands.

"The infection." I felt the brush stop in the middle of the strand.

"Honey," She finally began, after a long time. "The world is going through some, issues. And you're better off staying home. Now drop the subject."