"Clandestine Horror"

Sunny day gives way to an eerie night, still and damp...a Stephen King opening scene. Thick fog blankets low by the second visibility approaches zero. Nature is quiet on this night; no one's able to hear the cries of what's hidden out of sight...for if someone could, the eerie scene would surely seem like a tropical oasis. By God, expose the face of Malice, and burden us with it's hellacious presence.  

In a basement room the creepy scene seems like Heaven's graces through the eyes of a child, who tonight faces the sickening face of malice. Begging and pleading to their 'parental figure' (or worthless motherfucker if you prefer) for a break in the bludgeoning violence. Sobbing and desperate, nearly clinging to life, blaming themselves for this strife. Knowing not what love is but beatings, screams, terror and this ever-present clandestine horror.

Five days later the fog descends upon the city again as the lowering of a small coffin begins to stain the mourning train. Blind were they to the tears of murderous pain, deaf they were to the flags of blood on hands waved...why the FUCK was a child's life not SAVED? The fog shall forever remain, a constant, putrid insignia of the face of Malice; scorched unto this metropolis as 'The Night of Clandestine Horror.'

God, please, let there be no more!