An old man sitting by a fire, sad, shivering, staring in the flames with two cold, distant eyes. A pestilence stirs behind him --- small yet resonate, beaming whispers break the silence and fill his ears with sounds of vengeful despair; they are the screams of dying children, growing ever louder as the flaming image in front of him shrouds an innocent playground. He sits in silence as he watches them die --- just as he had before --- his curious grin softened only by the fear that overtakes him as the door creaks open by the sway of shadows; those dark shades of young, innocent children chase him outside to a dark field of slaughtered men staring him down with disgust.
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Penana
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