Mark peered through the small gap in the side of his shutters thinking about the unbearable silence that the gloomy sky left. No birds chirping without a care in the day, no cheerful laughs of the young children outside and no rustling of the grass swaying from side to side in the gentle wind. Sweat trickled down the side of Mark’s rough cheek. His dark and stuffy room fit almost perfectly with the vibe outside. Most people would think that the day was just peaceful, rain softly hitting on the rooftops, a cool breeze howling in the distance, but the breeze never blew, it never rained heavily. Mark ran his hands across the dusty grooves forming in the window sill.

People began flooding in through the gates outside his house forming a messy shape of a scribble that a toddler would have drawn. Distraught commotion echoed throughout the village that Mark lived in. He gently pushed open the door hoping that no one would jump out right in front of him. Mark tiptoed down the old and creaky stairs as if they were made to catch people trying to sneak through. He poked his eye through the miniscule hole just big enough for someone to get a glimpse of the outside and inside.

Mark watched anxious as to why so many people crowded around the small gates of his little town. Apprehensive and curious he stepped out of his little apartment. People surrounded him as if they were bees who had their hive destroyed. Thunder cried into the distance as Mark slowly shifted his foot backwards discretely. The people pointed towards the settle ment in the distance, canons were being set up, armies were being trained He jogged through the muddy grass towards the old cottage where his grandpa lived. Mark tapped his bruised and scratched knuckle hoping his grandpa wasn’t taking a nap or doing something ridiculous like he normally was. The door was flung open startling Mark on the spot. “GRANDPA!!!” he cried out towards the old and wrinkly man in front of him. “Hush kid,” his grandpa paused, “Wait, why are you here?” His grandpa anxiously tapped his foot on the worn down floor boards as Mark stood there soaked in sweat. Mark pointed towards the feint croud of people covered up by the unusual and eerie fog as the shrouded sun shed no light over the land. His grandpa gasped as if he was going to feint on the spot. “So?” Mark questioned himself wether his gramps could really help him in a dire situation like this “Can you help? Or not?” His Grandfather stared down at his broken down slippers. He pointed to the shed and then turned around as the rain started to pour down throughout the forgotten valley. Mark walked over to the rustic shed wondering how long it was there for. When was it there? Mark had never noticed its presence nor seen it. He broke open the door expecting this to be one of grandpa’s ridiculous pranks. He pulled it open and found all sorts of things; rope, traps, explosives and even weapons. Mark dropped his bag onto the floor and began shoving whatever he could into.