Advent of Acsention

A Story by AXhunter

This is my experimental attempt at writing using a favourite author's writing style.

Advent of Ascension

There is a storm coming. I can feel it, as it has changed our city. The wind is the same, coming from the east every morning and refining the city from all that went on in the dark. Ironic, that the wind is the only thing that hasn’t changed before the storm, and those who are hopeful take it as a sign that the storm is an illusion, a deception of our own thoughts and imaginings. But that is not true. The storm is coming, and it has changed our city. My city, the place that I grew up in, the only place that I ever called home. The change has not come in the wind, not arrived in bulk, nor in the the overwhelming approach of the storm, sweeping into our city and with it, bringing utter chaos.

The change has come in subtlety. The change has come in the form of our skies, our cars, our dogs, our cats. Now, our nights are a little longer, our moon a little brighter, the clouds above yielding and swerving as if trying to avoid the skies of our city. The building seem a little taller, and our people are walking faster, as if to avoid being in the open. The doors stay closed, Neighbours never share gossip any more; It seems that the sky is slowly descending, threatening to crush us under the weight of the world. The businessmen are not quite as professional, their suits

not quite as sharp. It seems everyone is waiting in sheer anxiety, awaiting and dreading the downfall of humanity.

A storm is coming. We've been warned. In fact, we were being warned for a long time, by the homeless men that littered the streets, the homeless women that came knocking to our doors for spare change, they had felt the change. They had felt it before we had, and they tried to warn us, to remove any thoughts from our head other than the sharp instinct of survival. But we have chosen to ignore it. We prefer the simple life. But sometimes, a revolution is needed. A revolution of nature, a great power to remove all greed from our minds and to wash away the genesis of evil in our hearts. When the time comes, we cannot be afraid. We must embrace the storm, and the new beginnings it promises.

A storm is coming. I feel it, and I know you feel it too. No matter how hard you try to hide it, the certainty of inescapable death cannot be hidden; It is evident in your eyes, that far away and desperate look that takes over your face when you know you are going to lose a game. Except this time, the stakes are much higher. This time, it is a game of life and death.

There is a storm coming. But we can still survive it. It seems impossible, a miracle from a fairy tale, something taken straight from the movies we watch and the books we read, but we can still prepare for the inevitable. We don't have to give up yet, there is still a chance, but it will be woeful, puny, pathetic, even. But just as the pitiful wooden boards in Noah's ark, we will emerge victorious, as a better society. Those who emerge will consist only of the strongest, those who faced the unimaginable with courage and nobility, those who never wavered at the sight of the places where no mind has ever wandered. We won't emerge as broken souls, either. We will

emerge and ascend until our power is only matched by the gods that watch above us, and then we will be reforged, a greater society forged through fire and frost; A society that dominates all other lifeforms, and cannot be challenged by any ancient entity.

There is a storm coming, and we can overcome it. But to do so, we must work together. For once, politics and economics and nationality, race and gender and religion, anything, cannot stand in between our bonding together. We must dismiss our differences and stand in front of the storm, as an immovable wall of flesh, an indestructible tendon barrier. Only then will the storm yield and perhaps dissipate, and the last thing it will see would be our immense power, followed by the advent of our ascension.