That I saw a boy die. We sent him out to sea, set standing against the mast of a small raft, his lifeless eyes looking forward into the sunset. It was strange...

Sometimes Someone'll Speak Silly Sayings, Souring Sunny Sundays. Stay Silent, Sowing Simplicity. Sleeping Soundly, Seeking Somber Slumbering Solitude, Softly Sooth Somewhat Savage Souls.
So Said Somebody.

Slowly but surely, I become less and less confused.

It's a dark night, the clouds lie heavy and low and it's a wonder they persist for the rain that pours out from them should surely have long ago ran them dry. A boy walks down streets in a world washed orange by the rusty dim glow of city lights caught and reflected in the constant flows of water falling from the sky and running down the sidewalks. Navigating through canyons that wind endlessly through the towering forms of great steel and concrete structures, great twisted spires that seem to claw at the dark canopy which hangs over them, he feels each drop as it falls on his uncovered head, into his hands outstretched. The rain runs through his hair, down his face and forms streams in the contours of his leather jacket, dripping onto his pant legs to be absorbed or onto his shoes to be flung back into the air with the kick of each step.
The boy hardly thinks it strange that he alone occupies the streets, that except for him the city would be empty.
No.
Long ago the cities had been abandoned. Nobody was fool enough to stay in the places that had once been home to such strong concentrations of emotion, not since it had been discovered that emotion was what drew Them.
Around the boys neck there hangs a small stone on a simple leather cord. As he comes to stand next to one of the buildings, looking up, the stone gains a soft glow. The air around the boy seems to crackle and spark, the streetlights around him flicker then go out. From where the stone hangs at his chest, faint forms – almost like tendrils of smoke – begin to flicker and writhe around his body. As the wisps creep down his legs and across his arms, arcs of electricity can be seen running between them. For a moment pain and sorrow flash on his face. He closes his eyes, his face is still, set. The forms begin to dance around his body with greater intensity, then, starting at his feet, they seem to find their place and set, almost solid. The boy’s eyes flash open, but their focus is on something distant. The writhing shapes are now set past his waist, though the loose ends whip all the more violently around his chest and arms until with a violent twist they clasp down around his shoulders. Another flick and they set on his right arm, his hand closing around their ends. Around his left arm they still flow, though their movements seem to be more of a dance, as if they have purpose. More slowly they set until all that is left moving are their ends, flicking around in the palm of his hand. They twirl and twist around each other, seemingly tying themselves into knots, and then unraveling. For a few more seconds the boy shapes the memory in his mind then, again, his eyes close. In his left hand the dancing shapes have come to a stop. The boy lowers his head, until the blind gaze of his closed eyes comes to rest on the glowing form in his hand. His face betrays his emotions as he grimaces, in obvious pain. His body begins to go limp. The shapes around him flash. Arcs of electricity flare up from his feet, around his legs, his waist, his chest, down his arms. For a moment he stands strong, though he knows he can’t hold for long.
The boy’s eyes open slowly and he sees that he is no longer alone, the shadows seem to pulse around him and dark figures move in the cover they provide. A smile can almost be seen on his face. He raises his left hand to the sky with his palm open; the shadows begin to close in. From high above in the clouds there is a blinding flash as a single bolt of lightning streaks down. With a scream the lightning hits the boy, and for a moment time seems to stand still.
The boy stands illuminated in light, a single jagged pillar of electricity reaches up from his hand and into the clouds above. The distorted figures of strange creatures, things that almost seem familiar and yet are terribly twisted, are rushing in from all around him.
Then the force of impact sends everything around the boy flying.
The rain falls on the empty streets of a city long dead. Lying on the sidewalk next to one of the empty shells of a once magnificent building is a small stone figurine glowing faintly. In the dim light it gives off, one can see that it is masterfully carved, for even though it is motionless it appears alive.
A dragon with wings outstretched in flight.