When it came, we were slightly surprised to see that if was not necessarily a skeleton war, but rather a skeleton apocalypse. Think zombies rising from the dead, but skeletons instead.

Somehow, and for a reason I stopped trying to figure out a long time ago, they were all skilled in hand-to-hand combat. They were at their best if they managed to come across a sword, but a lead pipe or simply their bony fists would do just fine.

They overwhelmed us. Because, apparently, for about each person, there are about 14 dead people, which in turn means 14 extremely difficult to kill skeletons. Speaking of, have you ever tried killing a skeleton? Fun fact: They're very fucking hard to kill. Sharp objects simply won't do; you need some sort of blunt object to crush their bones.

Images of the first few days of the apocalypse flash through my mind as I desperately attempt to run away from the growing skeleton horde. Images of my friends murdered right in front of me, images of fucking children ruthlessly skilled by those bony bastards.

I look back. They're gaining on me. I turn the corner in the long winding hallway I'm running down, just to see more skeletons blocking my path. I try to scurry back, just to see that the previous horde has finally caught up with me. This is it. I squint my eyes, not wanting to see what happens next.

Seconds past. I would have thought that I'd currently be being mutilated, but I open my eyes to see a singular skeleton only a couple of feet away, not moving. I attempt to back away, but for some reason, I stay completely rigid. I start to feel a terrible rattling sounds instead of me that starts to give me a headache. I feel my own inner-skeleton pushing through my skin, desperately trying to break free.

It finally accomplishes its goal, and for the few seconds I remain conscious, I see that my own skeleton has betrayed me, joining the other side in the skeleton war.