Picture a city. Or a world. Whichever you find easiest.
Imagine it full of life, hustling and bustling.
Then, one day, silence.
People scurry quickly from building to building, averting their eyes from corners. Some elect not to leave at all. They disappear fastest.
Public gathering places are shut down. Soon, they are followed by grocery stores and fire halls. Later still, the power goes, and with it, our confidence against the night. Those who don't drivestop doing anything. All that's left to illuminate the cities are headlights and phones. Humanity loses the darkness.
The day is all that's left. Of course, it's just as dangerous. Panicked eyes, fear, paranoia. Who's His. Who's ours? Death tolls rise, then, finally...
silence. True silence.
Slowly but surely, great trees begin to dominate the landscape. As it should be. Roots crush towers. Branches block out the sun. Nothing left but huge green-brown monuments to His will.
But this isn't the end. One summer, it might get too hot. Some rocks may knock together. Some glass might catch the sun the wrong way. All burns. The trees fall, leaves spreading across the wind like shrapnel, roots snapping like whips. The flames spread. All turns to ashes and dust.
This is what I dream about every night.