Title:the end of the night

The moon hung in the night sky, its brilliance casting an ethereal glow that illuminated a world shrouded in darkness.

It was a night where secrets thrived, and I knew where you might be—where the inhabitants drew the blinds, shutting out the outside world, and where the midnight oil burned incessantly, pushing the boundaries of time until the first light of dawn.

In this peculiar realm, the sun never rose. Instead, voices reverberated loudly, their echoes bouncing off unseen walls.

Here, vices outweighed virtues in the chaotic dance of life, creating a discordant melody that lingered in the air.

It was a place where mercy was a scarce commodity, a haven for the so-called savages who ruled with mouths as depraved as their hands.

In this dystopian corner of existence, demands echoed through the air, urgent and impatient. Things were to be obtained here and now, without delay.

The atmosphere vibrated with screams and curses, the symphony of mean men, resembling nothing more than untamed beasts on the loose—hungry, relentless, and thirsty for blood. Justice, even if it managed to prevail, was merely a precursor to revenge, a cycle that perpetuated itself without remorse.

The landscape of this world was painted with the hues of moral ambiguity, where the line between right and wrong blurred into a canvas of chaos. Virtues, struggling to assert themselves, were overshadowed by the overwhelming presence of vice.

It was a place where the crowd, intoxicated by its own malevolence, cheered for the downfall of the virtuous, the triumph of darkness over light.

In this desolate terrain, no sanctuary existed for the good-hearted. The savages, with their iron grip on power, reveled in the anarchy they had created. Their rule was absolute, and they recognized no distinction between mercy and cruelty.

To them, compassion was a weakness, a flaw to be exploited in the pursuit of their own twisted desires.

And so, the story unfolded—a tale as old as time but tinged with a modern despair. The remnants of dignity, like shipwrecks in a stormy sea, drowned in the tumult of this malevolent world.

What was once considered noble and honorable now lay discarded, relegated to the rubbish heap of a society gone astray.

As the moon continued to shine bright, indifferent to the travails of the earth below, a lone fox stirred in the shadows. It longed for a new game, its cries reminiscent of an old sheet rustling in the wind.

The fox, seeking something genuine in a world steeped in falsehoods, yearned to be the bait that would lure truth from its elusive hiding place.

Yet, as the fox pursued its solitary path, uncataloged and unregistered in the annals of societal norms, it became evident that its destiny would not mirror that of the discarded vestiges of dignity.

The world, with its twisted sense of order, continued to evolve, indifferent to the struggles of the righteous and the yearnings of the genuine.

In the grand tapestry of humanity, a somber truth emerged—the inhumanity that had permeated society had become a defining feature. The human race, once a beacon of hope, now stood as a testament to its own degradation.

It had become a leader in the league of inhumanity, a sad reality that beckoned acknowledgment rather than celebration.

And so, in the midst of this bleak narrative, a toast was raised—a toast not to honor, virtue, or nobility, but to the acknowledgement of a world where darkness prevailed and savagery triumphed.

It was a toast to the stark reality of a society that had lost its way, where the light of the moon illuminated not only the physical landscape but also the moral decay that festered within.