Gothic
You’re not sure if its dusk or dawn, its a twilight of sorts and the stars are dancing with the oranges the sun throws about like a lackluster gradient. You can see mars from here, the red planet from which the rain comes.
You touch the face of a long lost friend, feeling the clay break and crumble to the ground. Its another reminder that you should return home, but you are not sure how to fly.
There is no east on your compass. You’ve only ever questioned this now, when suddenly you need to go in that direction. But.. Where is East?
You can see in far too many directions, some days you forget which side has happened and which hasn’t yet. Are you a child learning to walk or an elderly man just now forgetting? It is distressing to say the least.
If you hear one more pun about freedom and eagles, you will absolutely lose it with this crowd. It is the 17th of January, you get it, you know of the exodus of your people. You just want to eat in silence. You don’t need these slurs.
Travelling between countries and counties may have been a bad idea, but at least you aren’t underground. You contemplate this, with your stomachs growling and the snow falling on you. Tomorrow, there will be fire.
You find a bloated sheep. You puncture it’s stomach, ready to move. Gas doesn’t explode out, but simply a horde of spiders. The sheep walks away, perfectly fine. You hate spiders.
You wish the rats didn’t glow, that way you could avoid them easier. They should be blind, but they’re not. Your fire doesn’t deter them, tonight will be a sleepless night.
