| The Desolation Rapture "We are holding off the year And now our season is here All the balances are clear Now that our time is here In our perfect present tense Through our white rose tinted lips When the words have all been spent Will we still have laughing?" -Season Song PART I I awoke to a world of tears and loss, A polar to my dreams of bliss. The world, formally united, confined by a midnight shroud. Death plaguing the diseased black hearts. The wind scuttles through the dead trees, The echoes of judgment breezing across the empty cities. Fear grips my form, forcing it to flee. I am seen. The bane of their ravaged eyes falls upon me. The wraiths stalk the shadows, Manically circling and surrounding, prolonging my scourging. My assimilation is imminent. A transport raises above the hills of devastation. We ride across the chimeras, venturing into the holocaust. Apexes of civilization stand in piles of ruin. Scouting for remnants of our race. Riding on to a military depot, We encounter an engagement between the forces and the vampires. The harsh roar of machinery and weapons meshes in with the cries of the tainted. The barren dirt absorbs the diseased sanguine, infecting itself. The survivors reassemble, Preparing to evacuate like a herd of nomads. Their trembling eyes are set upon a beacon: a tower on the horizon, A forsaken auberge, a fountainhead. The somber atmosphere falls. Rain and lightning rattle the woodlands. Clouds accent the heavens, preceding the storms, And blocking God's view. The doors crackle open along side the bolts of thunder. The discarded lobby is awash with the grime of the past. Dusty webs of capture stand in the building's eves, And a predestined downfall lies at its peak. Riding into the carcass of the building, The elevator creaks and pops along the track. Moonlight and lightning illuminate the abyss. The destination button ceases its glow, the metal doors slide open. |