The last day

It was the last day of the time, and the small city of Millfield was eerily quiet. The residers had all retreated to their homes to prepare for the New Year's Eve fests. But there was commodity portentous in the air as if the city was holding its breath, staying for commodity terrible to be.

As night fell, the silence was broken by the sound of riots coming from the city forecourt. The townsfolk rushed to see what was passing, only to find a horrible sight. In the center of the forecourt, stood a large rustic statue, suggesting a crooked and malignant figure. Its eyes glowed red, and it sounded to be expiring

a minatory energy.

The townspeople soon realized that they had noway seen the statue ahead. It had appeared out of nowhere, on the last day of the time. They tried to remove it, but it was forcefully embedded in the ground, as if it had been there for centuries.

As night approached, the statue began to emit a strange humming noise. The ground beneath it shook, and the sky turned dark. Suddenly, the statue burst into dears, and the townsfolk were thrown back by a blast of heat.

When they looked up, they saw a figure standing in the center of the forecourt. It was a man, but there was commodity off about him. His eyes glowed red, and his skin was mealy and crooked. The townsfolk realized with horror that he was the incarnation of the statue, brought to life by some unknown force.

The man began to walk towards them, and they scattered in fear. He chased after them, his long branches moving with unnatural speed. Those he caught were dragged back to the forecourt, where they were consumed by the dears.

As the night wore on, further and further of the townsfolk fell to the critter. It sounded impregnable, and the people of Millfield began to lose stopgap. They huddled in their homes, soliciting for the dawn to come and end their agony.

Eventually, as the first light of day broke over the horizon, the critter began to weaken. Its movements braked, and its grip on the city began to loosen. With a final burst of energy, it let out a blaring roar and collapsed in on itself, consumed by the dears.

The townsfolk surfaced from their homes, shell-shocked and traumatized. They could hardly believe what had just happed. But as they looked around, they realized that commodity had changed. The air was cleaner, the sky was bluer, and the sun was lustrously.

It was as if the city had been revived, sanctified of its sins by the terrible events of the last day. The people of Millfield would noway forget what had happed, but they knew that they had been given a alternate chance. They pledged to live their lives else, to be kinder and further compassionate, and to noway forget the assignments they had learned.

But deep down, they knew that the memory of the last day would hang them ever, a memorial of the fragility of life, and the power of the unknown forces that lurked in the murk.

In the days that followed the last day, the city of Millfield was in a state of shock. They had lost so numerous of their own, and the memory of the critter that had scarified them was still fresh in their minds. But as they began to pick up the pieces and move forward, they could not help but wonder where the statue had come from, and what had brought it to life.

The city council launched an disquisition, hoping to find some answers. They trolled the city libraries and canvassed the oldest residers, but they could find no record of the statue or any explanation for its unforeseen appearance. It sounded to have materialized out of thin air, a malignant force unleashed upon the unknowing city.

As the weeks turned into months, the people of Millfield sluggishly began to rebuild their lives. They held monuments for those they had lost, and celebrated the bones

who had survived. They also took way to insure that commodity like the last day could noway be again. They strengthened their community bonds and looked out for each other, determined to produce a better, safer city.

But despite their sweats, the memory of the last day dallied on. Some residers reported seeing strange murk in the corners of their eyes, or hail creepy whispers on the wind. The city forecourt, once a bustling mecca of exertion, came a place of dread, and people avoided it whenever possible.

And also, one day, the statue reappeared.

It was just like before the unforeseen appearance, the red gleam of its eyes, the humming noise. But this time, the townsfolk were ready. They had formed a plan, and they knew what they had to do.

They gathered around the statue, armed with firebugs and new munitions. They chanted old prayers and conjurations, hoping to banish the critter formerly and for all. And also, with a final cry, they attacked.

The statue fought back, its fiery breath scorching the earth and its massive fists pounding the ground. But the people of Millfield were determined, and they fought with all their muscle. They swung their firebugs and their brands, and soon, the statue began to weaken.

And also, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the statue was gone. The air was filled with the acrid smell of bank, and the townsfolk were left panting and sweating, their clothes and hair seared by the heat. But they had done it. They had banished the critter that had visited them for so long, and they knew that their city was eventually safe.

As the times passed, the people of Millfield went on with their lives. The city prospered, and the recollections of the last day sluggishly faded down. But every formerly in a while, someone would regard at the city forecourt and shiver, flashing back the terror that had formerly been unleashed upon them. And they would be thankful for the frippery and adaptability of their community, which had saved them from destruction.