On a planet in the far reaches of the galaxy sounded the Seven Horns, sending shock waves throughout the universe. The Sound-No-One-Wished-To-Hear was heard at last. "Beautiful! Our world is beautiful!" they lied and cried until their truth could not be denied. At that moment, life and death became the same to them. "If this is life, why live?"
In Torment-That-Must-End came the decision for the end. Let Nature take its wrathful course. As each of the Seven-Horns-Of-Resolution sounded, at last the inhabitants got the answer they craved in the inescapable flash of a nuclear winter holocaust. Not a creature was spared.
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In Darkness-Without-End were many, unable to see even the hint of a shadow. In madness they clawed out in vain, having always done What-Was-Expected they found no guidance. Stumbling in the absolute pitch they cried out for death, unable to see even a way to end their agony.
In the twilight edge raged The-Endless-War. They knew not for what they fought, only the false axiom "There must be war." Raging in the twilight that never fades was a frenzy without purpose. As the bodies piled higher Victory was claimed until no bodies were left.
A Wall-Of-Fire passed through gathering germs, scorching filth worn as makeup. Wallowing in muddy pits claimed to be the origins of life roasted many squealing piglets. They held up the Book-Of-Truth as their protection only to be burned by the holding of it.
The Ice-Chamber chilled from within in places of frozen beauty. To the eye, the great halls and houses still stood, green with iced grass and icicled trees. Those iced in slammed their bodies against their ice cage in futile freedom until their bodies cracked and shattered.
Worm-Holes formed, surrounded by great wiggling worms who called out in siren sacrifice. To escape worldly woes many jumped in, falling to the planet's middle where equal gravity trapped them forever.
The Cloud-Of-Power stormed through exuding lightning bolts no one could withstand. In hopes of controlling the cloud many joined with its hoped invincibility but were slowly sizzled in electric soup as their nerve endings frayed into disintegration.
A Great-Rust layered their objects of great desire. With the vanishing of rules any were for the taking but the rust did not sleep as it entered the bodies of those who grasped in possession. Eyes begging for rest staggered wildly wishing to see no more.
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Some surrendered to the Light crying, "Love! There is only Love!" They knew not what else to say for they knew not what else was true. But to those who harkened to the Seven-Horns the Cry-Of-Love sounded as death to them.
Eagles - The Last Resort by arntho
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