Devils March a city of the fallen.
The skies were dark, but no rain drops dared to fall on the forsaken town. The walls were painted red; the windows were painted over with the cross. Stables were in piles from fires set by the town’s people. Women lay naked on the floor, as their blood flowed in the rivers stream. The men were not in sight, for they were hung in their homes. “Hello, Darkness I am here as your chosen one.” was written on most of the doors. They worshiped a god that came and took them home, but not above the soaring skies. I stepped over the ones who were left to rot in the middle of town square, and walked forth to the well to quench my thirst from the long journey. As I turned the handle a bucket rose, it was bearing a young girls head dripping with freshly drawn blood. Her eyes stared in my direction, looking as she found no god where she was going. A false hope, a false dream, left a town to wither away in time.