Luna Phillips
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Temptest
Clouds darkened in the sky, to any appearances constructing themselves for a storm. Particularly cruel: the sort of storm Mother Nature would brew when ire. A heavy rain cried from the ruinous clouds, crashing to the ground not undifferentiated from hot tears. These were Mother Nature's tears for the slaughter of innocent souls by ghastly creatures corrupted by sin. This type of storm sent stagnation to the region; incense whose smell you could not escape, even if the soil were to fully engorge and dissolve it. It flowed and corrupted the citizen's slants, infecting the area like an unavoidable illness. The heat of the rain was the water's disguise, the kind of rain little children did not wish to dance and splash in. The kind of rain that makes people stay indoors. The kind of rain that makes everything in the world somber.
By Luna Phillips5 years ago in Fiction
