Buried In The Night

The world ended a while ago. At least it has been decades, if not centuries. Yet the masses remained oblivious to it as they always were.

Who could blame them truly? This apocalypse didn't come claiming as many prophecies told, no heavenly trumpet has been blown, the sky remained one peace yet, those who know feel it in their guts. The ever absence of hope, virtue, and everything positive in the world. The silent decay of the end has embraced us not physically but more abstractly.

The true heroes long rolling in their graves, what is left is a hollow shell filled by whatever leftovers could be found around. This is the story of no great person, simply a corpse that has yet to be buried by the night.