Day One Thousand Two Hundred Twenty Eight #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

None of us closed our eyes last night. We were too alive to the moment.
The silence of the night early gave way to the sounds of hasty preparation. While the first rays of light revealed rank upon rank of the opposing armies stretched out in endless lines.

The blood trickling down the rocky stream bed under the stone bridge was only the harbinger of what was to come, down in the valley.

Elijah stood to his feet and raised his staff over his head and intoned judgement on both armies.

Then across each rank and down each line, blood sprouted like a crimson bloom above each individual, a veritable fountain as they fell.
Like grapes in a wine press.

Day Five Hundred Ninety Two #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Though by the ship’s clock, it was past midday when we arrived at the gateway to the East, the lights of the city were still lit against the cloying darkness.

The water was motionless and all sound muffled as we maneuvered up to our berth.

Workers appeared from nowhere to secure our lines and hurried back out of sight.

It was an odd welcome. Like they were fearful to approach.

This notion was indeed confirmed by the timid port official who finally dared to come aboard. Rumors were rife that we somehow were responsible for the unending night.

The two guards debarked with P as soon as they could. In one last audience we laid hands on him and prayed.