Happy New Year?

Happy New Year. That’s all I hear murmuring in the halls. Some people here still hold onto hope, whispering those words like a prayer. I nodded back to them. How can anyone wish for happiness in a new year when this reality continues to crush us every day?

I’ve always believed in the power of positive thinking, but that feels hollow now. Nothing can compare to the weight of surviving in this place. The horrors here overshadow every “bad day” I thought I’d experienced before.

Lately, there’s been a strange shift something even more unsettling than our usual torment. New soldiers have arrived, and they’re... different. These beings are massive, towering over the rest. They look more human than the animalistic soldiers we’re used to the razorbacks, the elk hybrids, the grotesque monsters. But that doesn’t make them less terrifying. It’s worse.

These new arrivals exude an air of royalty. The others bow to them, obeying their every unspoken command. One of them stands out above the rest. His armor gleams as though polished with stars, adorned with intricate hand-painted symbols of a crown. Around his throat rests the shiniest furs I’ve ever seen, draped like a mantle of power. He commands respect no, reverence. The others kneel before him.

I didn’t notice him at first. I was too focused on surviving another day, carrying fruit crates from a truck in the courtyard. The sun was warm on my face, a fleeting comfort I savored in the chaos. I had no idea he was watching me.

It wasn’t until later, inside the office building, that Laura a fellow prisoner whispered what she saw. She said the “prince,” as she called him, had stopped mid-command. His soldiers turned to see what had stolen his focus, and it was me. He stared at me with an intensity Laura swore could have set me ablaze.

I dismissed her words. Surely, she was mistaken. The sun could have been in his eyes. I tried to convince myself of that, but I was wrong.

That night, I woke to the prince in my room. Hovering over me. He crouched on all fours, pressing his armor into my body as he inhaled deeply moving from my neck, my hair, and my chest. He was smelling me and searching for the scent of another, perhaps.

He stood back up taller than a tree and now stood at the edge of the filthy mattress. I lay frozen. He paced like a predator. And then he disappeared into the darkness.

Nobody nearby dared to move or even breathe. I think they feared that drawing attention to themselves might make them next.

Since that night, the other humans have avoided me entirely. They don’t want to be near me when or if he comes back. Their fear has left me isolated, more alone than ever.

So, no. I don’t share the sentiment of a “Happy New Year.” Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever.