The town lay in ruins; charred rubble and bloody, smouldering corpses lay scattered and staggered across the ground. Smoke still clung to the air like a scared child to its sheets whilst hiding from the monsters in the wardrobe. That was a bad analogy, Gospel pondered to himself as he observed the scene of destruction and chaos before him. The further he got to the point zero of the blast the brittler the ground became as he found he was no longer walking on ash and debris, but on glass from the intensity of the explosion. He frowned and removed his wide brimmed hat, placing it to his chest in a sign of respect to the dead of what until two days ago had been a vibrant mining town. Gospel looked to the setting sun as it lowered, lingering behind the hills as if it felt guilty to even shed its light upon the town. He sighed as he set his hat back atop his head and sat upon a rubble pile, opened his bible and began to read and pray, "Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the Lord your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you." He paused and looked around once more to the wreckage around him, "Well, I know You've got my back, just like You had Deuteronomy's... But I wish this could've been avoided..." He stood and holstered his bible next to his modified .44 Magnums and crouched to pick up the tattered remnants of a child's ragdoll; what little hair it had left caught the falling sun and taunting him that there used to be life here until so very recently. Casting the doll aside, Gospel stood and checked his guns over as a breeze caught the tails of his duster coat, "Demons... I am so sick of it being demons."
The year was 2034 and the world had changed a great deal over the past two decades. The doomsday predictions for 2012 were naturally wrong, like most doomsday predictions, and were believed only by drooling, raving madmen. The true beginning of the end came about on June 13th 2014. Yes, the world as formerly was ended on a friday the 13th, a fact that modern historians find ironic and amusing, referring to it as Fate's Day. It was upon that day when demons gained more power upon the earth, becoming able to manifest physical forms of their own. No mortal knows the reason why, but since that day - Fate's Day - the forces of hell seemed to be taking a firmer grasp over the planet. Since that day, the world began to spiral further into the realms of anarchy and chaos, wars were fought, nuclear weapons were launched, nations were completely erased save for minute bands of survivors and those few devout warriors who remain upon this earth took it upon themselves to defend what was left of this crumbling earth in the name of the Lord God. They took the title "Light Bearers", and so began the competition to win back the earth. Gospel is one such Bearer. This is his story...
***
Yellow. He distinctly remembered the colour yellow. Daniel sat up on the hillside; it was one of the few places of solace he knew of in this area, what was formerly Calgary. He looked around at the buttercups that still defiantly poked up through the rough patches of grass that remained on the otherwise desolate ground. He stood and grabbed his gun belt from the dirt, replacing it around his waist and setting his hat atop his head. He'd walked a good ten miles from the town where the demon forces had set off their infernal energy device and levelled everything within the town radius and still he'd found no sign of any demonic remnants in the area. He knew that today was going to be a long day, but most were when the majority of one's time was spent hunting the infernal forces of hell. He smirked, possibly the first genuine sign of positivity he'd allowed himself for weeks, and continued along the path he prayed to be guided along.
So that's all I'm giving you for now. I even stole one of Felix's words, Wardobe, sorry... And yeah, I quite like this, though it's a bit rough and stodgy, I might see what I can do with it. Hope you like it!
Peace out, God bless, and goodnight,
Craiggy.
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