My scream fades as the acute fear fills me with what I see and feel. The dark passageway is gone, before lies a terrible sight so awful I feel without speech and without any power as I try to accept what my eyes are seeing. The sky is a rage of blackness that not even the intense electric tears can uncover, menacing like nothing I have ever seen before. The ground on which I sit is composed of blood soaked soil, broken and without sense, torn up, smashed in, rotten. I stumble to my feet as though tugged by another’s hand as I know I am without any power in my shock. Oh god the horror of what I can not explain in words is numbing, sickening and depraved. Across the vast wasteland lay scattered remains of something that once was and can be no more, a world that for so many is hidden by curtains. Cities fallen, standing on the horizon like ghosts, dark and foreboding. What once was, ripped apart by a violent hatred, an menacing darkness driven by pain and suffering. As I stand on the mound of blood soaked soil, I realize that even with the vicious sky the air hangs almost still, the smell of death and decay looms in it and the world I see before me is so very silent, haunted only by the sound of screams that live now within the soft, almost inanimate breeze.
As I am walking, I can feel that this place I am in commands no balance, no direction and no sense. Although I am standing, moving, breathing, I can feel that there is no up or down, no left or right. I can feel inside my being that there is no balance present anymore. The further I walk I reach a juncture where the blood soaked soil is met with the faded remains of what seems to be a tar road of sorts, only because I can distinguish what roads I am used to. As I step onto the new form of surface, I am aware that it is not the gravel and tar I am accustomed to from my world, but something other. I fear to know as I head along the road, walking alone.
As I go I watch the sky above me, I see the monstrous raging and tearing flashes, and the eerie silence of this death valley creeps into my thoughts as I try to focus on finding myself out of there. There is a new cold around this place, a coldness that stems somewhere from below the surface of this place and as I walk I stare at the ground beside this strange road wondering if this coldness results from the morgue of bodies beneath me. I can feel myself breaking inside, but I try to find strength as I force with such a greatness to not show fear, to show pain, defeat, or tears.
Christ! The road is gone, the ground is torn deep for at least 3 miles to either side, roughly wide like the width of a football field with ragged edges of earth and rock stabbing up from its edges. As I look from side to side it becomes clearer that this horrible gash in the ground is not just a random tear in earth, but three distinct gashes as through from a giant claw. Turning around to face where I had come from, I realize the meaningless, lonely emptiness of the steps I’ve taken since the fourth black storm brought me to this barren horrible world. The loneliness. For the moment of standing there lost within the madness of my own mind, in turmoil without sense of why, when, where and how I hear something in the world, something loud. I look around, through the sky, across the planes of death and blood lands but see nothing, I hear only the loud sound of wings slicing through the thick morbid air. Then a scream erupts with an explosive sound and I actually leap from the ground in fright as the shapeless, faceless, formless blackness dropped from the sky above me screaming like a bird and slashing the air with a vengeance of violence and madness, directly for me, at me with hatred within the raging black.