There is, somewhere on Earth, a polaroid photograph of the Four Hungry Beasts who, it is said, are destined to devour the world.
There are only three figures in the picture: On the right, an elderly woman wears the uniform of the Excrucian hordes. Even if the photograph, her eyes seem to show the stars falling from the sky, and a bleak emptiness consuming existence.
On the left, a teenage girl in a ridiculous black dress clutches a mangy grey cat and smiles for the camera. Her mouth is full of fangs and there seems to be nothing behind her slate grey eyes.
The figure between them appears to be an ordinary man in his late 30s or early 40s. He wears a double-breasted suit and a scowl on his face and is clutching a bottle of Pepto-Bismal.
And behind them, an unholy conglomeration of an iron maiden, a microwave and a boiler room extends beyond the edges of the frame in all directions.
This is the First Sign.
The End is coming.
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