The droplets of drool fell like stones from the gaping monstrous mouth. Gusts of racid breathes portruded before it. Sckirrrrrrrrrrr. The earsplitting whistle of its call, feeling like nails were being dragged down a chalk board next to my ear.
More were coming. My fearful eyes could see the shadows dragging themselves along the ground.
Useless bloodied limbs, torn apart by the undergrowth hanging uselessly between their ferocious canines. Blood surrounded their snout.
They were coming. For me.
The wind whistled around me, caressing me like i was its lover. Its icy touch leaving trails of fire all over my skin. I felt like i was the only man alive, standing on the pinnacle of planet earth. The ocean loomed below me, looking so warm and inviting, the waves pounding on the rocks relentlessly. The waves foamed like a dog with rabies, frothing at the mouth. It beckoned me to reach its dark depths
My legs trembled. it would be oh so easy to just jump
The gust gathered behind me, as if it was pushing me over...
The wind swept through the area, sending a chill through the hearts of all those that were paying respects here, the weather reflected the emotions contained here, it was violent and broken, moaning around like hell was chasing on its heels. Despite the destructive nature, the gale seemed to gather behind me and encourage me towards a path I had walked often, towards the highest part of this graveyard. The thorns dug into my hand harder, a painful reminder of why I was here. The sun had started to retire, casting an eerie golden glow, hitting the headstones in such...
They lay like glass shards, scattered on the floor. Their unblinking eyes frozen pleading into nothingness. The atmosphere was as quiet as the darkest hour of midnight. It was still, as if nature even knew itself that there was no life here.
I took a step. Into this horror room.
My foot caught a flag, a great red flag with a swastika emblazoned on it.
This symbol was the representation of this cruelty
No life deserved to be here.
He walked into a blizzard. The wind had a life of its own, throwing the shards of snow like throwing knifes into his skin. The train was like a seductive mistress behind her, beckoning him to come back to her warm embrace. The station was as lonely as an island stranded in the dark Pacific. The train let out a mournful howl, its gears creaking and screeching as it attempted to continue on its journey. There was no way back now, he was abandoned in unfamiliar waters. The wind trickeled through his jacket, whispering against his skin with toungues of...