"…out. Let me out."
The voice trickles out from within the depths of the earth, as if it had always been there, dormant and waiting. The ground quavers and winds wail through the hallowed expanse. It is… the thing's glee resonating.
"We're going to end it all. Everything will burn. And it will be so very… very… cold."
Its whisper is honeysweet lathered venom, its breath a tickle of instinctual terror. The thing's voice overwhelms. The sky grows overcast and the ground turns crimson. The earth is unsteady and it's as if even pure physicality is afraid.
"You are destined for this. You are mine. You have always been mine."
This thing is the embodiment of death and fear and the end. This thing will spoil the earth to its core and scorn the depths from which it came. This thing will gut the earth and bleed the sky. It is evil manifested.
The thing sucks in a jagged breath.
The sky churns, pulsating and unstable, and the land turns in on itself. The world is falling apart and there is fire and blood and ice and it is all over. All that is left is a mangled, gutted pile of death and this thing will laugh.
You will watch it all end, but you will still be there, for eternity, with this thing.
"…Sammy"
He awakes with a harsh gasp and visceral sensation of dread. Goosebumps splay across damp skin; he can do nothing but lie inertly atop his borrowed mattress and wait. Minutes pass before he is able to think.
It was just a dream.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"Sammy…"