End Times.

The pitch dark galaxy had no stars nor moon to illuminate the sky tonight. Only fire. Fire and twirling red lights from abandoned police cars.

A willowy woman in a tattered red sundress stood slightly crouched as she gazed sightlessly from her perch on the rooftop of your average suburban house. She murmured to herself constantly, as if chanting a prayer.

A tile shifted slightly behind her, indicating presence. She did not move. The words drifted in the wind, caressing her, almost inaudible in the blaring sirens. Was that her voice, or someone else's? Not that the woman cared. The words soothed her.

The presence got closer. The burning torch in the woman's left hand trembled slightly, but it remained in her grasp. She remained unmoving, eyes trained frontwards willfully. "Lillith," The voice purred into her left ear, encompassing her, ruffling her raven hair. "Lillith..."

"My... name is Elizabeth Peterson, and I am a... copywriter from, from Maryland," Beth choked out her recitation as an icy hand clasped itself over her left arm. "My name is Elizabeth Peterson, and I am a copywriter from Maryland." A tear escaped as her eyelids fluttered close. "My name is Elizabeth Peterson. Lizzy. Lizzy Peterson."

The pitch dark galaxy had no stars nor moon to illuminate the sky tonight. Only fire. Fire and twirling red lights from abandoned police cars, and a forgotten, dying torch.