It was the seventh of April when we were beset upon. Giant fleshy tendrils, the souls of the dead and unremembered still screaming within. It came from somewhere underground, though none of the poor saps sent to investigate ever found it's true origin. Billions were lost during the first week, though none seem to truly remember them except for me. Our active destruction has become normality. Today, I woke up to a scraping noise coming from my floorboards. I have less time than I thought. I must write, or none will realise the true dangers we are facing.
WIP I need to re-edit this bcs of a glitch
