The walls seemed to rise up to infinity. Looking up he could see the darkening sky overhead, angry and filled with rage. The lightning danced throughout the now impenetrable darkness of the angry god’s heaven. Let the deluge come! he thought harshly, knowing the walls kept in those too wretched to be set free, and too haunted to be sane. Yet, for an instant, he thought perhaps there were some worth saving—the heavens opened up and unleashed their downpour—death walked the streets behind the walled city, claiming his due and it were for naught that they, the wretched, the insane, the forlorn and lost, were ignored. Their terror and pain called out to him, a prayer of suffering. Today was the beginning of rapture and none could stay his hand. The end had come.
Behind the walls
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