Dark alley, shrill cat meowing. There were several red-eyed crows standing on the collapsed telephone poles, singing a tuneless tune in an eerie manner.
A sign of doom, the entanglement of death. A wave of blood surged in the gray skull, and the tragically dead man praised the "weird" glory.
An Ye woke up from the alley, feeling dizzy and dizzy. Seeing this unrecognizable world, she was filled with questions: Is he dead?
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This could be a fake name, or it could be fake copywriting.
There are two assumptions in some of the content. This is my first time writing, so I hope you will bear with me.
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*The logical problems in the content may not be coherent or too far-fetched. A small part of them are due to the plot, but most of them are just the author's fault. (Fog)
*Feeling and attack are both existences born in darkness, corresponding to reason and emotion respectively.
*In short, the theater should be blown up and blown away.
(Heavy fog.)
*Reject verbal attacks, just don't read it if you don't want to.
*Just for my own entertainment.
Purpose: Face the crisis calmly