electric gods stumble over the smoking ruble of a barroom mythos, poking it for any sparks left of life. the parasitic cannibals hiding fast in the larger remnants of their flesh based world. strange noises echo out from the smoking bowels of the desicated earth, perhaps a death rattle. the dawn comming on slower in these later days as if hope itself had died. shockwaves and mortat fire reverberate in the abscence of morning dew. the smaller children finally realize that their bed sheets won't successfully protect them from all the evils that don't exist.