I’m walking on a sidewalk. Utter surprise fills me, for there is nobody in Times Square today. The streets are filled with wrecked cars and broken bits of glass, but there was not another living, breathing soul for miles around. Even the leaves that scuttled across the roads were dry, brown, and lifeless.

One of the large television screens was cracked; revealing the wires inside. When I stepped beneath it, I saw shards of glass, rocks, and even bullet casings. I shuddered at the hopelessness of this place. The sky was overcast today, adding to the overall atmosphere of the ruined intersection.

I sat down on the side walk and paid especial attention to my surroundings. The air smelt of smoke and burnt rubber. Cigarettes and beer bottles where littered everywhere. Police cars were smashed and ruined. But there was a complete and utter silence. It was more than just quiet, but the feeling of nothingness.

I strained my ears and tried to pick up even the smallest sound. But the wind was still, nothing was moving, and even my own heart seemed to have succumbed to this surreal landscape. I wanted to stand up and leave this place behind, but the silence held me in place. Then, with a gasp of horror, I realized.

This was the sound of death.