| Sadistic winds blow in from the east, as dark
clouds of a storm from the west cascade over a range of mountains, spilling down into an unsuspecting valley. Animals and fools run up into the valley attempting to be protected from the winds, just to be swallowed whole by the torrential waves of madness being spewed forth from the jaws of an unforgiving wickedness. Drool puddles and oozes in strings from the gaping muzzle of death, godless hunger stalks this freshly created wasteland. Like survivors of a shipwreck tragedy, wide eyed minute vermin stagger out from their protective lairs. Shattered leafless trees bow down, weeping at their loss. Boulders and cliff bands crack and groan in protest of the treatment they have been forced to endure. Ever vigilant, the executioner of the ignorant keeps a wary eye on this domain, ever ready to unleash its own sense of education on the brainless mass below. They need to learn. They need to know. This is merely a warning, life is not to be taken for granted. CHRISTOPHER S. BUTCHER |
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