Trickle trickle, raindrops tickled standing hairs across her neck. Oh blight! Icy cold was the night with eerie shadows sneeking past street lights down the desolate alley. Little did she know what was creeping beyond and below – the end of a world – a grand finale.
Stumbling along, a lowly peasant girl was humming a song, her mothers tender lullaby painting the moon and the sky in which it lay, where hopes and dreams interplay. Thus she treaded this narrow passageway bemidst brick and stone and dark windows alone.
A thick wall of smoke, enough to smother and choke, awaited her at the ends of this path. She haulted her soaked turnshoes, proclaiming her dues in a wouful plea: "I come to save my family, of my own volition sent! I offer myself to free them from worldly torment!"
A looming voice filled the night air, ignited with fright and despair; "Child, you seek salvation and you shall recieve, and the Witch of Wicked Revelation sending you here we highly commend. We took notice of your fathers prayers and grieve, let us hear him again":
"Deliver us! Deliver us from treasonus humans and their sickly ways, vicious illness and dismay. Uncloak our inner eye to unravel and purify sins from these deeps within; make us whole, rid us plain and humble, save our brittle flesh as ordained..." – his voice crumbled.
An ever growing sense of dire delusion filled the poor girl, and in her watering eyes confusion unfurled. Again with taint, the voice said "So much heart, and very quaint for the human race, though we must admit our favourite part was the tears down his face".
"Are you not the angelic savior ascended, promised to rid us from pain as intended?" she queried in vain, for the horrible truth was ascertained. A ghastly laughter stirred in the smoke, with rancid odours freezing the spine from revulsion evoked in her intestine.
"Angelic, oh no my child!" the voice snickered beguiled, with the sound of fangs snapping aloud before the girl. "But alas, a saviour indeed if you lambs wish to part from this world. We needed but a true entreaty from a virtuos soul and you, my sweetie, fit the role.
An echo soared through the dark, its rumbling vocals deep and stark. "Haaark! Haaark! Hungry legions, let the feast commence and leave no earthly flesh untorn and sleek!" In a flutter of the heart, a single tear reached her cheek and her pretty face was ripped apart.
Trickle trickle, warm blood pooling with ripples. Oh blight! Icy cold was the night with demonic figures waltzing past street lights into every sleeping home. Little did we know what was coming our way through this calamaty rally – the end of a world – a grand finale.