Bleak Audience

Sooty ponies tapped through the bleak, black gates.

Riding on their backs were mysterious, cloaked men.

The world had lost some of its brightness,

and all of creation, from the small to the great, felt it.

The ponies stopped in the middle of the dilapidated town square.

They knew the path far too well.

The four cloaked men slipped off the ponies but kept their cloaks on.

They stepped onto a stage that faced the water and moon.

They simply stood there ominously for a few moments, waiting.

Out from their cloaks, they pulled out instruments.

One man played a flute, one a fiddle, one a ukulele, and one a small drum.

They played into the night air.

There was no audience, aside from the four ponies, the moon and the water to listen.

The rest of humanity had been obliviated.

They were the last of the human race.

Their music sweetly played on and on...