The city of Verona was known to be a small quaint town; similar to a utopia. Tonight had a very dark contrasting theme though, as heavy rain and fog filled the bare cobbled streets. The lights of crowded homes, like blades of grass, blurred through the fog, similar to lighthouses. Although the rain had thundered and snapped, it was a queer and off putting silence tonight.

As a small old man waddled down Main Street, closest to the capital building, with his sweet nephew of his, small occurening bird calls rang through out the streets. The man and his nephew mentioned this peculiar sound a few times before brushing it off and deciding to continue walking.

A few minutes pass by before the pair began to head louder continuous bird calls, all in different pitches. It wasn’t long before they saw bright orange lights, all bundled in one blob.

Cautious, the duo decides to turn around, their pace picking up a little more than before. “Shwosh!” A flash of wind was felt before the old man heard a cry… his nephew, struck with an arrow.

Marching of steps could be heard now, overpowering the rain, as the orange blob was now visible through the fog. The picture showed a coup of citizens, weilding pitchforks, weapons, and torches glaore; storming the streets, towards the pitiful old man.

The angry citizens pick up there pace, it wasn’t long before they began to throw there torches, setting furious flames lining the street. As they approached the capital, the standby old man and his injured nephew were trampled by the rally. A group of people symbolizing a pact of boars.

Screams and cry’s were now the music, as the rain played as background noise. The night was no longer foggy, as smoke and light from the flames now filled the sky. The capital building was raided as these now rebels destroyed whatever was in their paths.

The city of Verona was no longer a calm sanctuary. The night had renamed it the Sparrows’ Massacre. The old black cobbled streets were now stained blood red, a reminder of the eventful night. The night where the citizens took action, where they were tired of being couped up and “calm”.

And on display, on the infamous Main Street, now lays the head of the ex-mayor of the Verona; as sparrows pick away and nibble on the reminding flesh on the bone.