Today I awoke to the piercing sound of lightning striking a dead tree outside my window. I look out the window to see it has caught fire, and I wonder to myself how this violent downpour isn’t stopping this incandescence brightening my room. I step outside my house, and as I take my last steps down the porch, I  plunge feet first into a pool of dark red blood. I keep walking.. Cold, tired, and scared. I can barely see through all the fog. Through squinted eyes I make out a dark figure sitting on the bench beneath my tree..and in his hand, a single red rose. As I inch closer to this man I notice he is tearing apart the rose, one petal at a time. With all the confidence in the world I walk up to this man and stand in front of him. He does not look up, in fact he keeps pulling the petals off, and as I observe my surroundings more I notice that when the petals hit the ground, instead of staying in their original form they turn into a small puddle of blood. This man only looks down, in fact my presence has absolutely no effect on him, like he can’t see me.. Ash falls onto both of us, but he does not move..I move on, drenched in blood, ash, and dirt, and rain.

In veils of black, nighttime screams in my face. I walk up a dirt road. Never before in my life have I felt so emotionless, so dead. Walking on this lonely dirt rode I stumble upon a graveyard. I can barely see the top of the headstones over the fog caused from the cold. I walk throughout the graveyard, and wonder why it seems so familiar. I take a better glance at the headstones; I see many names of people close to me. The feeling of being alone hits me like a ton of bricks, but I do not weep for these people.  I just keep on my journey and do not look back.