Screaming. Fear in the air. Dust clogs your lungs. It burns your eyes. You run through the cloud of displaced sand, seeing only a few feet in front of you, watching the silhouettes of your friends, your brothers running, screaming. No one is shooting up at it anymore. No one is organized. Everyone is terrified. Huge, shelled mountains crash down into the sand around you, kicking up more clouds of dust, adding to the confusion. You don't even know what it is. You just know that it the blots out the sun, and it cares no more of you than you would a cloud of troublesome gnats. A man flies through the air, and behind him you see a wave of sand pushed ahead by a glistening wall of flesh. It whips up into the air, burying you under a flood of dust. You cannot see, you cannot hear. You cannot breathe. You claw your way to the surface, screaming and inhaling at the same time. You are covered in sand. You crawl a ways. And then turn to wretch. Around you there are still screams, but less than before. Another pale green tentacle crashes into the dirt, killing two of your friends. You turn to run, but you know it would be like running from a sandstorm. The tentacle sweeps you up into the air, and sends you flying almost gracefully through the air. You land in what seems to be a broken cart. And you feel cold metal tear away part of your ribcage. You curl into a ball on the ground. You moan and cough up blood, and after a while you shakily get to your feet, and begin to stumble away. The screams are almost nonexistent now. After a while you find a rock resting in the sand. You fall and curl up in the shadow of the stone, breathing heavily, the world becoming dimmer around you. So dim, it becomes dark.



- Pat