They Prey is a story based off the music and lyrics performed by the metal band Severed Fifth. Severed Fifth’s philosophy is to change the music world by providing their music under a Creative Commons license. Please take the time to see the site and download great music for free at: http://www.severedfifth.com Join the forum and help change the music world!
Where desert turns to scrub, and the scrub begins to give way to trees, a voice breathes in the darkness. It comes from nowhere, but everything before it falls silent.
We were eating around the fire when the whine crossed the sky. Like slow lightning we watched the fire fall from the sky and hit the ground. Each piece of fire came closer to the village. We could hear the thud as they hit. Whistling balls of fire began to fall all around us. We turned our faces to the dust, hands gripping the ground.
No one knew where the next ball of fire would hit. For long minutes we squeezed our eyes shut until the fire stopped raining from the sky. When silence fell again we began to get up. The noise had made everyone skittish and no one knew where to look. Through the darkness we heard hooves, then gunfire, and shouts.
“KILL THE SLAVES!”
“KILL THE SLAVES!”
The raucous cries combined with dust as horses pounded through the village, chasing people down. The voices became intertwined with people screaming into insensible chaotic shouting. They chased the hunted down. Vehicles came on the heels of the horses. Grass covered homes turned into flames. Men and women ran in every direction.
In the middle of the chaos, a man is caught by many hands. A rope is tied roughly around his ankles. He calls out to his captors,
“Why are you doing this?”
“What do you want?”
The voice in the darkness breathes back no answer. A horse drags the man onto the path through the trees. Within the forest the eyes of the predators are cold and unfeeling. The voice in the darkness does not care if men die. Inside the trees, where no one can see, They take their toll. When they are finished, all that is left of the man and the village are smoking, charred remains.
They did not tell us what they wanted. They shot, and burned, and trampled, and took and took and took. Then they came again. They came many times. Some times the fire rained from the sky, some times it did not, but they were always there. In the end they did not leave us so much as a spoon to bury our dead. We do not know why they are doing this. We know they will come again. The voice in the darkness breathes hate for us. And they will come again until we are no more.