August Seven

Is it a blessing? When the moon hauls its brightest light. Where one's soul flickers with the stars—fading along the haunting clouds. The eerie silence has united with the shadow, threatening to consume everything. Then vengeance will rise, giving birth to a grief that will soon overwhelm the world and become the loudest that even darkness is frightened. The origin of grief will cradle the fading soul; condemns The Punisher as his agony took over. But instead of hate, he sought mercy: begged for it to take the destined soul's fate and reverse the hand of the future. The unknown who watches the present hears his world crumble piece by piece and feels sorrow carried by the wind. It becomes the witness to his unending pain that falls through his eyes and feels the quiet plea for hope within his timid voice. The unknown then takes pity on one's broken soul. That night every string was entangled—the night of the broken story. Or was it a curse?