I am making a short story called Karnaiah (Car-na-eye-ah)
It’s about people who have been chosen. But they don’t know for what. Right now they think they are meant for is to watch the world end. Just to watch it being killed by an unknown Elder God, Karnaiah.

The world is in flames.
It has come and taken over. It has made countries destroy each other. It has made what was a green and blue beautiful planet into a red rock stained with flesh and blood. Everyone you have ever known was either brainwashed by him or torn limb from limb by one of those things, his minions his monsters. If you’re not dead yet you will be. It will be dreadfully painful beyond your comprehension.
This is the end. All is gone and dead. Mountains have crumbled. Cities have toppled. Animals have deceased. And people have lost all hope. If you were the -as they call it- “chosen”, all there is left to do is watch the world burn at your feet. And why the hell would people be chosen to watch the whole damn world burn? Now I wait and die. For the things to eat me. To go into nothing. Because that’s at the end of their throats. Nothing. An endless void that is an absence to everything real.
There is nothing left. There is no hope left. There is nothing but death ahead.