Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Story One, Chapter Five
It is twilight. It has always been twilight. It will always be twilight. There is no breaking of day. There is no falling of night. The Burning Fields glow endlessly, the flames reflecting from the vortex above down to the scarred earth. The ashes rain constantly down, and coat everything. Everything is a black brush of ink against a pulsing, sickly background. Occasionally, the world is illuminated by lightning stirring above. The air becomes charged and a roar sounds forth. Then everything returns to silent twilight.