It looks like the gray sky prior to a storm, caked with layer upon layer of ominous clouds.
It sounds like the silence after howls of the wolves rip through the air.
It tastes like an apple half rotten yet still sweet.
The smell of animal carcass fills the nose, burning.
Eyes watch you from the shadows, gazing with hunger.
It looks like an eclipse covering the sun, covering our world in darkness.
The ghostly scream of tornado sirens echoing through the skies.
Dust rises up, breathing it in, the gritty texture.
Fires burn, smoke enters the body, the smell hurts.
The damage is done, but the disaster still rages.
A gentle pulse of blood red light, casting eerie shadows against the rough surface of the walls, small pockets of total darkness.
It sounds like the buildup it a song, a rise that never ends, prayers leaving the mouth for it to end.
A bitter taste begins to form, throat tightens, words fail.
Perfume fills the air, calming, relaxing. All the sensation ends for it is a lie.
A figure stands, no details, no face, no information of who they are.
Every day, every hour, endlessly. Forever.