A lightning pole dropped in the everlasting moor of the night, and a young fellow donned in an orange parka screamed and died, his cries muffled by his apparel.
Yet no one was seemingly there to witness the ghastly event of Kenny's untimely death. His shriek was a mere figment of any stray wanderer's imagination. Except for the paranoid fourth grader with sickly blond hair that happened to be out at such a late hour.
Upon seeing dashes of ichor painted across the ivory snow, illuminated by the lightness of said sleet, Tweek visibly contorted and it seemed like the frequencies of his twitching went to an absurd degree.
He was next.
Through this outrageously shocking and horrifying stimuli, it sent widespread and frenzied signals throughout his body to get away, the pole's sparks only furthering this sentiment by bringing Kenny's corpse to light.
Yet he could not move from his standing. He was a deer in headlights- scared horribly of the circumstance. The paraphernalia of death swarmed his head, anxiety and dread yet a lingering feeling of calm. He felt so disgustingly serene, before he blinked, twitched, and finally scurried away, crying for whoever he held dearest and flailing his arms about wildly. Surges of the same panic took his form by hold and only scared him more. He thought of the crash. The sparks. The swarm of dread welling up in him as he saw the body of his now late friend. Kenny's bones made into a abhorrent architecture of doom via work of the metal pole colliding against tangerine.
This was going to haunt the rest of his days, Tweek decided, before finally absconding into the night.
