• The world had beocome silent.

    There was no laughter, no crying, no screams or songs. There was only silence. Silence and grey skies.

    A single black speck, what was once the sun, was outlines by the dismal grey of the sky. The little light that remained was from Galieo; a man made version of the glorious orange orb.

    Oh, and it was dismal. The artifical light gave birth to pale faces and light colored hair. The whole of the world seemed to loose color, and the birgs no longer sang their songs.

    A small puff of dirt, blown up by the howling winds, settled against an iron door. A small noise, small and almost non-existant, echoed loudly through the silence of this world. Of our world. It was a single footstep, but even if it had been the dropping of a needle it would have still sounded as loud as an earthquake.

    The door swung open, and in the darkness sat two eyes. Eyes of such a pale blue they seemed to be white. His hair, unlike the remainder of the world, was black. It made his pale skin seem ghostly. And he was a ghost as he stalked along the ground - hidden in shadows and plants. The clothing he wore was dark too. Not black, a stark earthy grey and brown. The long sleeve skirt and pants clung tightly to his flesh. Dark colored gloves covered what skin they could and socks of the same color covered his feet. His face was the only showing bit of skin, and it floated along like a strange light in the grey.

    It was not long before the man found what he searched for - a wolf. A dark grey animal, with bloodstained ivory teeth and glowing yellow eyes. Somehow the animals had retained their dark colors.

    The creature spun around to face the noiseless foe. Too late the wolf turn to run, and the metal spear shone fiercely in the fake light of man as it struck the beast.

    And then there was silence again.

    The man drew his spear from the lifeless body, and sliced open the stomach. Warmpth spewed from the carcas in form of steam, but nothing of interest was seen in the gore. Anger flashed into the pale eyes.

    He had not killed the right wolf.

    Now he would have to return to his people, and inform them that they would still fear the dimmness of the sky. He looked up, to the orb. His people wanted the return of the sun. Wanted this reign of pseudo life to end.

    Yet, no light would ever come. Too long had they lived in the darkness, in the cold.

    The wind picked up, and the man headed back to the door. Another storm was coming. Another torrential downpour of acid rain and the battering howls of violent winds.

    This was the world now.

    This was the way things were.

    And this was all the fault of his people.