Wedge. Waiting for the world to restart
I still remember the scene that day.
Black ash fell from the sky, and a thick layer of sticky ash stuck to where my hands had wiped it. The air smells of sulfur, and if you look closely you can smell the sweet, fishy smell of blood.
Blood, blood fell from the sky, along with stones, steel bars, and everything I could imagine.
They fall from the sky.
Blood, blood on the ground.
Like a river, like a creek, like a lake, but no matter what they are, they eventually meander and converge into a vast sea of blood.
People, people float on top of that.
Young people, children, old people, babies, men, women. Living and dead.
The ground was cut into criss-crossed fragmented chessboards by the force of nature. Towering skyscrapers collapsed, and the underground water poured in swallowed up the remains and blended with the blood. Buildings falling down like dominoes smashed the wide asphalt road into pieces.
The sky was like water-soaked papyrus, split in two by lightning.
Creatures are screaming, creatures are calling.
My Lord, my God, my heaven and earth, please redeem me.
They screamed and were drowned by water, crushed by houses, and crushed by rocks. Heaven and earth moved away from their original positions. Stars fell from the sky, and the four horsemen named plague, war, famine, and death rode horses through the world.
The underworld follows them, lifting the curtains and seals covering the Day of Judgment.
The sun in the sky was as red as blood, and I heard someone shouting,
The gods are dead.