The air was thick with smoke and smog, skin-chilling winds, and the ever present scent of illness. You find yourself walking through the streets, the red hue clinging to anything, even the shadows seemed ruddy now.
“Hark to those who may still amble in stillness! Hark to those who find themselves numb to the cold!” Was that a person, they shouldn’t be out right now, it’s to dangerous! You run to the voice, mud flinging with each step. “Hark to those who they themselves know not what is to come!” Turning a corner you finally come upon the person. A … person? “Hark!” The glossy white masked turned slightly to face you, “For he is here.” The figure went quiet, then began to sing an odd, haunting song. Teeth far to large made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. The swirling smoke that had been following you from the beginning swirled even stronger, pouring from the stoic face of the building.

You try to run, but something’s wrong. Where are the roads? The lamps? Even the clouds of potential death were gone. Turning round, and round, you don’t see anything, but the sea of burgundy, the bit of road beneath your feet, the building, and the per-

The air was thick with smoke and smog, skin-chilling winds, and the ever present scent of illness. You find yourself walking through the streets, a red hue clinging to your skin. You stop, the road seems to have ended abruptly, you go to turn back, but catch a photograph on the ground. Picking it up, a disgusted, but curious look went across your face. The picture was of some person wearing random, brightly colored rags, a long ivory mask facing away from your gaze, and a black skin suit. You were getting ready to chuck it in the trash, but- “Hark to those who may still amble in the dark!”