In almost an instant the quiet night with hints of breeze brushing past, it turns into a nightmare, a paraletic trans you can't escape from. It's changing all of it, it's turning its face once more to reveal his master plan.
Deep growls with crisp snapping whistles the winds grand trick begins its course. It's demonic screams awake the silence it's like he's woken from his restless sleep and he's on course for dominance.
Holding his whip, he comes from all directions cracking the trees, and bushes the poles that supply is with our greatest gifts man's ever discovered. He wants revenge he feels his has been dismissed, yet we don't know the half of it yet.
The almighty has struck once more, the woodland green is in ruins, poles with power banished from his realm he now has claimed, the jaw dropping tree lines in disarray. He has made his point.
He falls silent once more, after we forced his hand yet another time, he is waiting. He shall return.
the holder of faces isn't done yet, this is merely the begining of his emersion.
©danmcb
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