A thick foam of dark clouds has gathered,
refusing to make way for the sunshine.
The air feels heavy and wet, weighing down everything in its way.
The weather keeps changing with every passing minute.
Suddenly it starts to pour heavily, and a thunderstorm follows.
From the looks of it, it seems like it won’t stop and the world shall come down with it too.
There will be devastation, loss and endless grief.
Is it the end? The day of judgement?
Is it a season? Will it pass?
The rain stops, and so does the thunderstorm.
Everything has been washed or washed away.
There is an eerie silence.
No noise, no movement, no life.
Just the thick blanket of dark grey clouds spread across endlessly.
There is no horizon, no boundary, no sky, and no water.
Just a morphed world – full of nothingness.
Nothing can be seen and yet there is visibility.
Nothing can be felt, yet the heavy air seems angry, willing to smother and kill.
There is a tiny crack, the light trying to push its way through.
As though, the sun cannot bear the deafening silence anymore.
With the meagre, scattered light, a few things begin to make their presence felt.
At first instance, it looks like the war is over, on the second it seems like it might resume again
There is a pile of corpses.
Each is almost identical to the other.
Are they humans? Certainly not.
Are they beasts? No.
They seem more like a mix of both, doppelgangers – yet each killed differently.
Nothing makes sense, yet everything does.
Suddenly there is a crackling sound.
It is a tiny fire, burning mightily, the only movement so far.
Though tiny, it refuses to go off.
Strange, it was pouring down for hours together, how did this fire make it through?
What is its source?
It can certainly not be on the outside, for that would have perished.
The mystery remains unsolved and the fire keeps burning.
It neither gets bigger nor smaller, it burns – with the same vigour and intensity.
Will it provide or will it destroy?
Is something about to be created from it or is it like the black hole, waiting to suck everything around it into nothingness?
The mighty clouds have regained their power over the sun, yet again.
It is dark.
Darker than before, as though the clouds are angry for letting that tiny ray of light seep in.
It is going to pour again.
The heavy air is weighing the world down again, this time, only heavier.
Is the fire visible? Not anymore.
But something says, it is still burning.
