A thunderstorm destroyed my place of work. That was the thunder and lightning from last night.
As I arrived, birds emerged from the burning ruins, unscathed in spite of the fire that blazed even in the pouring rain.
I heard the voice in the lightning speak once more as they flew overhead.
"Quinton Grimm. You are one of our own.
"You are our shelter, a tool for the crows."
There were no deaths. Nevertheless, I think I know why the Murder destroyed the building: they knew I hated it there, and they wanted to earn my loyalty.
They do not understand humanity, but they have ultimate power over us all.
The end of the world does not come to Atkins not because it will not come, but because it already has.
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