It has been raining for seven weeks. Small drops. The sky is squeezed and he is wriggling and wailing in his huge place away from the human clay. Thunder and sharp lightning wipe out the above. They are born from a single dot and then spread over like a huge flashing web shortly followed by deaf sounds.
Then silence. The purple sky drowned with his tears all under his mighty. Crows with grey hard-as-rock beaks stopped long ago croaking and now they huddle in flocks waiting in rain.
Nor sun, nor moon, nor even minute stars reflect their cold image. They all are covered; stored way from human's view.
The purple sky it's crying...
The seal it has been broken...
This happened only once before but all had knew the things end happily, so they forgot quite fast. Now things are different: negotiations went all wrong; since then the sky changed and everything headed on an unusual path.
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