The Isolated Island (61)
The entire island was enveloped in a dizzying sense of oppression, the colour in the sky deepened to a dark scarlet red, and the crescent moon rapidly faded into darkness.
The wind screams and whizzes past like a siren call and the endless red clouds block the night; the lonely temple stood at the very edge of the sky dyed crimson by the horizon.
The rotten parasites screeched and cackled ear-piercingly.
The faceless men reached their hands out frantically from the abyss.
The sound of a trumpet blows loudly across the island, like a call to judgment.
Almost the roar of the raging sea, it played a lonely mournful tune.
Above their heads, a rusty red mist suddenly bellowed and grew like moss that grows on the side of an abandoned well.
When it disappeared, a dead body that looked to be half-hanging on an invisible iron hook hung upside down in the air.