The blackness of the night, stretching over the world.  For each candle, a gust of wind.  Childish, this fear of the darkness, but it waits there at the end.  A terror as big as God.

“I’m wondering what’s gonna be,” says the old woman, her body already 90% devoured.  A few days later her eyes are only blacks, glittering like fire.  Then I am at her funeral.

A soul burns in the night, feverish, shivering like a young animal first smelling the end.