It rained in red. A torrent of crimson droplets fell from greying orange sky, as clouds of a dark, sickly red did little to block out the night sky above, meaning that this rain, was anything but natural. The droplets were warm, and sticky, bathing the ground in warm, fresh hemoglobin. Even the stars looked bleak, and a bright, sickly green as well.

The grass was dead, dried up, and crinkly. It was as hard as iron, but frail enough to disintegrate into powder at a simple touch. As all this happened, Phillip Molson gasped in horror. He could hardly believe that this... this Armageddon, was a reality. As he glanced about the dying red soaked earth, a sinister laughter caught his ear, and from what he could see, it looked as though there were five laughing faces, floating in midair.

Those faces, as strange as they were, terrified the boy, though he knew nothing about any of them. At that, one of the faces approached him, a grin upon its frightening face. “The Viral Storm of Souls and Hell!” it said. It almost sounded monotonous yet whispery, as though it were being chanted.

“The Viral Storm of Souls and Hell!” another one said as it floated towards him from the sky above. The emptiness of their facial forms were dead and void of any appearance whatsoever. There were no eyes, or mouths, just thin faces shrouded in a mysterious shadow.

“The Viral Storm of Souls and Hell!”

This time, at the loud outburst of the five monotonous, shadowed faces, the ground began to shake, and the sky suddenly darkened. The reason for this darkness was scary in its obviousness. In the sky was a giant sphere of cratered grey and white... and it was drawing closer and closer to the ground.

This, Phil concluded quickly, was the moon, pulling closer and closer every second, the ground beneath him beginning to crack, as though the entire planet were being wracked by seismic doom, and with the moon hurtling to the planet like a giant meteorite, the idea wasn’t too unfathomable.

The gravitational pressure was becoming to much. Phil could not hold his ground any longer as he suddenly felt so heavy, he landed face first in the grass, shattering the delicate dry blades beneath him to a powdery nothingness! His shorts were drenched in red blood, as were his shirt, and face and arms. He realized, soon enough, that he too was beginning to bleed.

As he attempted to reach up, his blood soaked hand trembled violently, as he felt the gravitational pressure of the moon rip away at him. He couldn’t even muster a scream under this pressure, not as though anyone would hear him. Again, as he lay on the dead, bloodied grass, his head managed to lift itself upwards in fear as he saw the five shadowy faces. Their emptiness terrified him more than the Earth’s impending doom.

In an instant, Phil felt himself being ripped from his dream state as he was violently rippeds back to the world of the awake.
“The Viral Storm of Souls and Hell!”

The voices repeated it one more time, as he began to stir. The funny, yet at the same time horrifying thing was, he could have sworn he heard the shrill, faint whisper of the end of the chant even as he was no longer haunted by sleep.