Our darkest day cometh, whispers of death are carried 'cross the black winds of doom. A small child seeks comfort at her mothers bosom. We grieve for those we have already lost and fear for our own inevitable deaths. A ravenous chill gnaws at our very bones as the darkness encroaches upon us.
Yet we cling to the last light we have. The shadows grow all around us, entangling our very souls with death. The places we used to know seem like fantasy during our last moments. Extinction is all that awaits us now...
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.09 seconds at 7:10am on Nov 14, 2024 via server WEBX2.