When the Wind Turns Dark - Rewrite

When all hope is lost is when the wind turns dark and the sky turns black. When no one cares what happens next is when the wind howls in cries worse than any earthly beast and the once-mighty predators cower in fear from the sound of the wind itself. When the wind is an enemy of all, when it frightens all, striking fear in the hearts of even the most brave.

When birds drop dead with no cause, and fish float up, white bellies littering the seas. It is when the hunters of the land disappear, one by one, is when we hide.

Hunter and hunted alike, big or small, fast or slow - we hide. We are no longer in petty disputes of strength, no longer the predators and prey. We are all prey, we are all in danger. We fight and train, but to most, it is fruitless. Only the strongest of the strong are left in the end.

Every creature, living or dead, know or has known of these beats. Always fearing when the next time may come. Always living in fear for if they may be next. The weak are left behind - only the strongest can keep up.

Everyone knows them, yet know nothing about them. Who are they and where they come from are questions without answers, questions that echo in all of our minds. Why? Why do they filter the population in such a cruel, devastating way? Why must they do this?

The questions arise on many minds, but to no answer. The last of our breath, fogging the chilled air - “Why?”.

At night, every night, when the stars wink - you know they are always watching, always waiting.

Image from Pexel.