The sky had never been so scarlet.

Industrialism characterized their town for years. They were happy when strong stone houses began to stretch upward rapidly from the half-ruined village.

Once this town, soaked in tears of despair, was slowly moving to the bottom, as if stuck in the very depths of the mire. And at the moment when all its inhabitants had accepted their impending doom, they were swept up in a whirlwind of progress that came upon them suddenly and inexplicably, like an element born out of silence.

They were so hungry for change that they plunged headlong into it. Science, medicine and technology began to walk hand in hand with them, bringing new advances every day. They loved new life, and didn't notice how the stone from which had built their homes began to make its way into themselves.

As the years passed, they became colder, more distant and indifferent. They forgot what it was to feel. To feel the wind on your face, the grass, the dew on your feet from walking barefoot, to be happy at the first snow and sad when it was raining.

They were closer to death than ever.

The red sails of the clouds carried across the sky. They had a hope of salvation they did not yet know.