Outside the old rusted gates and handmade wooden fences that shut the small town from the outside world, was nothing but fog, darkness and an eerie silence. I watched as a group of soldiers stood near the gate, hearing them talk in hushed tones. They were planning to kill. What you ask? They called it a 'Nightingale'. I don't really understand why. What is a Nightingale? I heard their guns and knives tapping against the gate in nervous anticipation as one walked towards the lever to open it. I was nervous for them. The gate slowly opened increasing tensions further, there was not a thing in sight just silence and fog.
A silence that was quickly broken with a loud screech followed by an endless clicking. It was close.
Everything was over quickly after the gate closed behind them. They disappeared into the fog, then their screams and cries followed, then the silence returned with the occasional click that came from that thing. You could just about make out a hand or leg of someone trying to escape. There was a group of us watching, not a single person dared venture out and help them. They weren't seen again.
This was a lost battle, but the war was not done.
How many more would these monsters take before they're satisfied?
How long will we last before we become the monsters?