It Was August, And The End Was Near

A shadow of what appeared to be a man arose high upon the plain early in the morning.
It was August, and the end was near.

In the distance, this silhouette appeared closer each time, what reminded me of past times, when hail, water and wind ravished the land and ice covered the plain in its entirety, like white blood spilling from my eyes, like tears within the rain.

Grey clouds ruled the sky and the Sun was not to be seen by the sight of the sinners and liars, nor to any mortal eyes. A fellow stranger passed by and greeted the walking kin that crossed his path.
I never heard from him again.

Cold winds hit my skin sharp as razors while everyone wished for the torment to perish a slow and crimson demise. The strange pilgrim that rushed upon the field caught my attention when he stopped. I had been sitting outside during the night thinking about miserable verses that would never be read, and here they are:

“Who are you, my fellow life? What is it that has brought you here?
Please do not tell me that you are here to make me suffer, for I will not bear it, please do not tell me that you are here to torment me, for I will be the rising Sun by dawn…”

And my ink did finish.

My eyes were open like mirrors absorbing fragments of light in the might of the morning as the rays of such light wandered through the plain.

I was too weak to follow my heart, but too strong to deny my feelings and too silent to ignore my will.

The stranger was close and I trembled with fear, it was August and the end was near.
The ghastly silhouette stood with all of its might right in front of my eyes, and whispered into the sky:

I am your best friend, and my name is…

My name is The End.