The lines of red, etching through the dark silhouette that floated in the air. Even with the sun almost at its highest, the Red Flare was enough to wash out everything within the vicinity in an ocean of red– but even still, the man that stood in the air was completely unaffected.
It was as if he was a single dent in the light– a void that needed to be filled, but could not. A single dent…
…A single dent that signaled the end. A tiny dent compared to the size of the world.
Minuscule compared to the area the sun reaches, maybe even almost non-existent. He was a grain, a sand, a speck of dust to the light– and yet he signaled the end of everything.
Soon, the Red Flare behind him dissipated in silence, letting the sun once again have the monopoly in greeting the world with its brilliance. But soon, even the beautiful rays hid with the coming of the dark day.
