Strike Force

The villagers emerge from out of their homes. Gathering in the street, they form a circle around the body that lies motionless on the ground. A man. His life force depleted. Left to rot in the sweltering heat of a mid July afternoon. The birds of prey had their feast. Hardly anything remains from the attack. Souls from Hell have claimed his flesh. Their prize.

Like so many before him, and those who would soon follow, death was inevitable. The on-lookers shudder at the carcass that once resembled a promising life.

A dark entity emerged without warning. It left nothing in its wake. Nothing but lies, deception, and propaganda. The villagers were scared. Their hero has fallen. Who will protect them now?

The cold winds of winter soon swept in. The villagers resumed their activities as though nothing had happened. What could they do? What could they say? Their own greed superseded that of what was right. That of what was righteous. That of what was pure. In the depths of their fear, hope was a ghost masquerading as a mouse in the house of raven.

Under the shine of a red moon, blasphemy became my brother. 

The villagers emerged from out of their homes. Gathering in the street, they turned their eyes to the sky. A light they could see. Truth was reborn. Their hero has returned. Armed with the sword of Gideon.

Video Credit: "Light From Above" - By Black Tide