The cold wastes of the starless morning with the droning buzz of silence roaring, only undone by the short breaks of debris settling and charcoal cracking, persisted like a fog over the still roadway. To the unknowing passerby, the idea that this plain was a town would seem unfathomable. Strollers no longer rolled. Dogs didn’t bark. People didn’t converse about local events. All that hung was a sensation of emptiness. The feeling that something should be standing here, but was buried centuries ago.

Coming over the hill, passing between two branchless trees, a stranger walks down. He appeared to be worn by time, as if time struck like a sandstorm chips away at metal. His disheveled moss-green overcoat bore char towards the bottom. His boots were stained in dried liquids. Once reaching the bottom of the hill, upon hearing his boot crunch against the gravel of the roadway, he stopped, looking past the specter of the hollow town into the unknown. He knelt down, head still straight, and removed his hands from his coat pockets. He ran them through the gravel road, taking some of it back, sifting through it. He felt the rough pebbles, felt them break up into smaller and more jagged pieces, and then either fall from his hands or become reduced to powder that stained his hands, the earth now refusing to return home.

The stranger resumed his uneven walk, treading over the gravel road into the heart of the ruins. His steps were always accompanied by the crunch of the gravel.

Crunch

Crunch

Crunch

Crunch

Crack

The sound of broken glass disrupted the continuing sound of crunching. The stranger moved the ball of his boot over the glass, making out the jagged figure of the leftover shards. Glass is created by heating sand to such a point where it melds together into a warpable material. By combining together, they become a much more fragile being.

The stranger waded through the lot like a grain of sand in a backpack. The crack of glass now joined with the gravel together in a chorus.

Crunch

Crunch

Crack

Crunch

Crack

Crack

Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

The sound emanated off to the side. The sound of the last gasp of air escaping the lungs drawn out over a century. Weak, but never yielding. The sounds of the famished. The sounds of the hopeful. The stranger had heard and housed this noise before. Not too long ago. Back when he was still partially aware of his fellow man. They would kneel, arms extended down to the sides, eyes staring up into the sky. They would sit on their knees, day after day, night after night, unaware of the passage of time. Time had worn away around them. Their homes desecrated. Their businesses washed. The clothes on their backs scratched away like paint, leaving them bare to all, none of which saw. For their eyes were hooked, locked, shackled to the heavens above in hopes their neon god would show just a sliver of His face. They used to stare into the sky, but now looked upon a thick gray fog. But they didn’t see the fog. They only saw the image of their savior just beyond their sight, eagerly anticipating his ever worshiped gaze to lower down for them to bask in His sun. Their sun. Golden rays of which would ease even the most timid of souls and return them back to the earth on a chariot of warmth and acknowledgment that you too existed and held meaning in this great wide enigma of an infinite universe where your life was perceived to be mere seconds to the universe but housed eternities of stories and epics that you thought would go unseen and were elated to be shown recognition by a being so benevolent and cosmic that their presence elevated you to the stature of a god making you cry a tear of joy that you had been heard.

The stranger felt those rays before. The rays were welcoming and brought warmth and approval. He had seen the sun like many others had said, but unlike them, had a lingering eye that felt the heat of the rays. It burned his eye, and upon realizing he was ablaze, averted his gaze from the idol in the sky. After staring at the sun for an unknown amount of time, all seemed dark in comparison, for it had taken his ability to see what was. It left him to walk a pillaged earth, now covered by a dense fog. The stranger could not see the fog, but felt its weight. It hovered ever since people said they saw the sun and felt the rays, but nobody believed it at first.

The prayers emanated their chant for the last century.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

If anyone else still staring could speak, they would say the sun was out that day. The rays were warm.