Narrating in half consciousness in the middle of the night. Thoughts are embedded on the matrix of my mind. Raw and unpolished turns out as the most precious gift. Incomparable than anything else...
First day, the most robust. Radical and restless. The lust for blood is apparent. The strong urge of intent is coming from every ones' mind. The massive and violent flow of adrenaline made me numb. My head is then a blank of pure white. The tightest grip is made that day. Strangling with all might, never too easy to do. Everything is but a hollow black of space. Recognition is a forgot. No one escaped; no exceptions, no objections. Ravage is every where until the day ends.
Second, all are exhausted and unstable from the previous day. Tired and weary, they were unable to continue but their will is too rigid to bend. Hours past, and half of the crowd fell upon the ground of cobble rocks. Another hour and almost no one is standing. It was the middle of the day the, tempest of the sun is on its peak. They are all helpless like a melting wax. Struggling to survive, crawling with their hands up on reach for nothingness. Mercy is given scarcely. No one barely escaped the wrath of the heavens. Late afternoon, wails and lament conquered the whole place. Everything is darkest gloom of despair and agony. I thought it was permanent until the second day ends.
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SFGS 23 Community Member 
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