So there's this competition on the Writing Forum where you have to take a piece of music and interpret it in writing. That way a flash artist will have the chance to use the music with a detailed story. Now, as I normally write my music with a particular storyline in mind, I decided to take my own submission Minutes to Midnight, which I had already made a rough story for, and revise that story into a more detailed piece. Anyway, I would like some possible thoughts on this, critique, whatever, as long as its constructive. Thanks ;)

Also, keep in mine that this is only a draft and is liable to change.
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Minutes to Midnight.

I ran as fast as I could. There was no time left to be slow, no time left to even think about what I had to do. All I knew was that if I didn't at least try, the world as i knew it would end. Sweat ran down my back in icy streamlets, freezing in the bitter cold night air. I took a glance at my watch. Five minutes left, five minutes to decide the fate of humanity. I ran faster. The freezing wind howled through the alleys as I sprinted through the village. The last remnants of Hallow's Eve could barely be seen through the snow; rotting pumpkins leering at me through the icy windows. Only yesterday, children had been still laughing, enjoying the cheer and horror of the feast, but not today. Today, the village had fallen into perpetual sleep, and the only thing that could be heard was the howl of the wind, layered with a constant stink of sulphur.

Breathing hard, I burst into the clock tower and sprinted up the stairs, praying to any of the gods who would listen that I wasn't too late. I sneaked a quick glance at my watch, it was all I could spare, but the face was frozen over. My breath came in ragged gasps, my legs burned and the cold knife at my hip dug into my waist, a constant reminder of what I was tasked with doing; of what I had to do if humanity was to survive. All I could see were the stairs; step after step, going higher and higher. All I could hear was the clock mechanism whirring above me, the glowing hour hand creeping closer and closer to its final destination. And in the distance, I began to hear whispers of death, whispers in the dark, the final chanting of the dead, or the soon to be.

As I erupted through the door into the mechanism room, the first thing I noticed was the sudden heat. It hung across the air, clogging everything with a sense heaviness. The smell of sulphur here was almost unbearable. It filled every pore of my skin and clogged my throat. Then I saw Dartmoor standing in the middle of the room, bathed in purple light, his hands raised towards the heavens. He was chanting; chanting in a voice that constantly got louder and louder as time passed. The hour was close now, I had little time.

With a roar I sprinted towards him, my white knife leaping into my hand in a practiced movement, glinting in the moonlight which flooded in through the glass roof. I leaped at his unprotected back. He had heard me, I was sure of it, but he hadn't turned around, and by the time he did it would be too late. Then he turned, and I realized that I was wrong. He whirled round with blinding speed, a dagger materializing in his hand and stabbing forward. I felt a sudden pain, and I collapsed, screaming. The dagger was poisoned. Dartmoor looked down slowly, a smile across his face, his scar as pale as death. He raised one hand toward me and, with a cruel grin, spat out a few words of power. A blast of red light burst from his hand and i felt a sudden wracking pain. I screamed again. I howled. I writhed on the floor. I knew it was over; I had no time, nothing else I could do.

"It is too late foolish boy," screamed Dartmoor, the insanity in his voice cutting clear through my screams, "They will descend from the heavens, and humanity will burn with their coming!"

A maniac laugh escaped Dartmoor's lips, and he laughed at doom, at his doom as much as ours. The man was crazy I decided, if he were still a man. He'd given up that title a long time ago. But then, so had I.

"You'll never get away with this," I managed to gasp out as my vision blurred.

Dartmoor roared with laughter as a red doorway burst into existence behind him, blazing with an unearthly fire. I glimpsed an eternal plain through the portal and a dying red sun on the horizon.

"I already have, human. I already have!"

A red claw appeared behind him, bursting through the portal like a knife through butter. Grasping the head of the unsuspecting necromancer, it crushed it to pulp, blood squirting through its fingers. My eyesight turned red as the body of the Annular, the demon warlord, walked through the portal. He spotted Dartmoor's mutilated body and spat with brutal contempt. Then he lifted his monstrous head to the heavens and roared. I had failed, my time was past.

The demon stood bathed in the moonlight and shouted its defiance at humanity. Its legions of foul monsters crashed through behind, howling in joy and desperation, lusting for new blood. And behind it all, through the haze of blood and fire, the clock rung humanity's final hour.

Midnight...
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Thanks for reading!

Echo