We were born at the same time, him and I. Our screams could be heard all the way down the street.
The problem was different than before. How could I steal the crown?
"Watch where ya going youngster." The Old Man yelled after me, as I was running away from the guards.
The bread fell from his hand, as he was lifted up by a strong hand. The strong hand was so strong that his face was bloody and purple. The body was slowly disintegrating, the arm withdrew as if burnt, the body attached to the arm ran away.
The water was slowly choking him, the air was gone from his lungs. All that was left, was the rocks standing their ground as the waves consumed them.
The ground shook and its giant mouth swallowed everyone, the land had become a wasteland of doom. Everything is gone.