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We kept hoping the sun would shine over the trees again. Instead, the dark miserable clouds that spread from the mountains out over the town remained. Mohaba’s residents had gotten used to the ugly weather, unending rains, and dark gray clouds. How would their town be bright and full of life when demons possessed every corner of it? It had not been a pleasant place to live for its people, their parents, grandparents and even their great-grandparents.
Some of the people ran away in the hopes of finding a neighboring town. The ones remaining had no access to any news. They did not know if their friends, neighbors, or family members who managed to get away were alive or dead. I know what happened to them. None of them survived. They were the lucky ones. The unlucky ones were the ones who had not ran away, who were left behind. Like them, I worried for my survival after many failed attempts to save Mohaba.