The skies are alight with crimson rivers,
   which cause all varying from pebbles and mountains to

tremble

and those ruby streams of light continue to, roar amongst obsidian clouds like

angry tigers.

Trickling along the fingertips of burning light, reducing forests to ashes.
Lighting trees with flames which blaze, like hellfire torches.

Beware.

Dangerous creatures are out and about, the wise ones know not to shout or do anything to be heard, for they

know that the chance would rise, that they will be found.

  Clawed,     torn,       bloodied,     bitten,
                
      shredded to pieces, there is

no mercy to be found on crimson nights.

Prowling tigers are hunting in the dark of night, coats wet and crusty with the lifeblood of previous prey.

Hide and hopethat they shall not find you. Hide your fear from the biting winds that screech in your ears.The tigers will smell the stench of you, find you...


  and you will die.



The skies are alight with crimson rivers,
   why is tonights rain warm and sticky?

Why does this rain remind me of




Blood?