Rage

 In a world where emotions were as tangible as the air we breathe, there was a time when rage ruled. It permeated every pore of existence, seeping into the fabric of reality and twisting it into something dark and foreboding. The sky was perpetually clouded, as if a great storm were brewing just beyond the horizon, ready to unleash its fury upon the world at any moment. The ground beneath was barren and scorched, devoid of any life that could not withstand the relentless onslaught of rage's fury. Even the air itself felt heavy and oppressive, as if it were filled with the collective anguish of all the living things that had been consumed by rage's insatiable hunger.

This was a world where rage reigned supreme, and it had been this way for as long as anyone could remember. There was no escape from it, no respite from its ceaseless torment. The only thing that changed was the intensity of its grip, the ferocity of its attacks, and the depths to which it plunged the inhabitants into despair. Life was a constant struggle against the overwhelming forces of rage, a never-ending battle for survival against an enemy that could not be defeated.

But there were whispers, faint murmurs on the wind, of something different. Of a force that was beginning to gather strength, to challenge the dominance of rage. It was something new, something that had never been seen or experienced before. Some called it hope, while others named it courage. Whatever it was, it was growing stronger by the day, spreading through the world like a beacon of light piercing the eternal darkness. And with each passing moment, the grip of rage grew weaker, the shackles of despair looser. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for the world to be saved.